


Like a Virgin (Touched for the Very First Time)

by Kittypatch



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Butt Plugs, Celibacy, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Power Bottoming, Sex Swing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittypatch/pseuds/Kittypatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bad breakup Patrick decides reclaiming his virginity is the best thing to do. Then he meets Pete. [AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little different from the previous fic, lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Patrick listened to the sound of a car pulling out of his drive and sunk down into the swing. His vision was blurry, but he was trying desperately not to let the tears fall. It seemed impertinent that he remain stoic, that even though he was now alone in a house they'd shared for going on two years, he didn't want to feel like the loser he probably was.

So he sat on his swing, in the guest bedroom, and waited for his eyes to dry up. They'd suspended the swing high enough that his feet lifted off the ground even when they weren't in the holsters. It had been fun, they'd got a whole lot of use out of it until Joe found himself someone more interesting. Patrick supposed _they_ didn't have a sex swing. Joe had bought it for Patrick, but he wasn't taking it with him.

Patrick cried for two nights and then he got over it. He had work to get on with; songs to produce. He spent the next week in the studio, working day and night with this little pop rock band. He thought they were good, though they needed refining. Patrick was modest about his work, but he _was_ good. He knew that much.

By the time the record left his studio he was ready to come up for air. He checked his phone and searched through a ton of voice-mail. Mostly his mom, because _‘she was worried, honey’_ and then a couple from Vicky telling him to meet her for drinks. He wanted one from Joe, telling him it was a mistake, but there wasn't anything.

Patrick deleted everything and then headed for drinks with Vicky. She was a terrible influence on his liver, but she didn't press for details. Didn't ask him how he was doing and bought the first three rounds.

“He let me keep the sex swing,” Patrick said forlornly, when the room started to feel too hot and his eyesight became worse than normal. “I should count my blessings.”

“He cheated though, that's the least he could do,” she pointed out. There was a weird sting in his chest, but nothing overly painful. “Plus it would be a bitch to take apart. It's drilled into the ceiling right?”

“Yup. I wanted to feel safe, I'm not falling out with my knees by my ears. It can take over 200lbs, is hammock shaped so I can just lay back and…” Patrick waved his fingers in the air, letting it fill in his missing words. She nodded her head at him, like she was surprised. “He said it got boring because we'd done everything exciting too early on. He called me a workaholic.”

“Yeah… “ Vicky hesitated, but he batted his hand at her. He was a workaholic, but it paid for his house, it paid for his car and more importantly, it paid for his overpriced sex swing. Some gratitude wouldn't go amiss.

“I am over it.” Patrick rubbed at his chest lightly. “I just feel… not sad it's over, but just the way it was over. And that he's completely blanked me.”

“Everyone deserves better than that,” she told him, smiling down at him. Her bangs were curling up in the sweaty bar and he wanted to laugh, but he probably looked just as bad. “Except, you know, everyone like really awful in the world.”

“Right.” Patrick pulled his wallet from his back pocket and struggled to pull some notes from it. There was a photo he'd shoved in there from months back, a picture of him sitting on Joe's lap and laughing at something off camera. They looked happy, or he thought they were.

 

Patrick knew he had a _slight_ reputation at work, in that he has a sweet looking demeanor and was polite until you were locked in a room with him for twelve hours at a time. He just really loved music and he had high standards and he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. He just wanted people to succeed and he wanted to produce good music. Anything less didn't leave his studio.

It's why he'd always been pretty sexually free outside of work. He wasn't home a lot, but when he was, he wanted some good old fashioned fun time. He'd never really had a proper boyfriend before Joe; it was always friends with benefits or a revolving door of hookups. He had fun with it, but being with Joe had been even better. He missed him a lot when he was home, missed having someone sleeping beside him, or someone to lay against when they were watching some dumb box-set.

“Hey man, haven't seen you in forever. I heard you broke up with Joe.” Patrick looked up from soundboard to see Travie lumber in. He looked a bit of a mess, but he was hot so Patrick ignored it. He worked in promotions for the label Patrick's current band were signed to, but he'd known him for years. Because Patrick was Patrick, and he could sense a big dick beneath clothes, he'd slept with him a few times too.

“Yeah, hi,” Patrick said. He watched Travie watch him and then realized what this interruption was for. Patrick hadn't had sex since the week before Joe had left, which was going on five weeks. He could do with getting fucked; with having some fun. Then he actually thought about it, getting naked with someone. Trying to remember the best position with someone a foot taller than him, and hoping to God that Travie had a condom because Patrick always forgot to restock his wallet. It all seemed like way too much effort. “It just didn't work out, but it's okay.”

Travie hesitated. Usually by this point Patrick was fairly obvious about his own intentions, and while he was being his usual polite self, he wasn't physically crawling into Travie's lap, which was generally the green signal for McCoy.

“Aight, well. I just came to check in on the band. We got them a gig tonight, you should come. Hear some of your songs live.” Patrick couldn't think of anything worse than hearing the band butcher the new songs in person. He loved gigs, but only when they weren't his songs. He appreciated the gesture though, and that Travie was both trying to cheer him up and get into his pants.

“I might do, we'll see,” Patrick said, laughing when Travie patted his cheek slightly. His palm was more or less the size of Patrick's face. Joe had big hands, but not that huge. Patrick waved him off, before turning in his seat.

Patrick didn't go to the gig, but that wasn't unusual. He stayed late, working with what had been recorded earlier in the day. He wanted to get the track finished by morning. He made his way home eventually, but slept on the couch rather than his bed.

There was a wrap party for the album, which Patrick did go to. He was hardly a social bunny, but he was proud of the album, even if he never wanted to hear it again. Plus it was polite to support the band, and politeness was important to him. Usually he just sent a gift basket, but he'd been feeling lonely all day. Unfortunately they were playing the new record, which would have been fine, if Patrick wasn't a perfectionist. He heard a few places that sounded too slick and some that needed finer tuning.

He ordered a few drinks to numb the annoyance and plastered a fake smile on his face whenever he was thrown into a photo. There were tears from the band and hugs too, but he braced himself through it all. Everyone got pretty drunk an hour or so in and they started to party hard. Patrick didn't really join in. He could have found someone to hook up with; Travie was around and Patrick caught sight of two other people he'd slept with at some point, but he just gone off the idea of sex. It sucked _big time._

Then, of course, he had to see Joe standing there. Or, _dancing_ , with the person he'd left Patrick for. It would have made Patrick's life a whole lot easier if Joe hadn't turned to see Patrick standing there, looking probably heartbroken or something. Patrick turned on his heel and quick footed it from the room.

It wasn't like their paths wouldn't ever cross again. Joe worked as an in-house tech and they'd met when he'd been working with Patrick just over two years ago. He was at a different studio now, but it was always the same circles they ran in. Patrick ended up in a back corridor of the club, trying to control his breathing as he heard the door behind shut.

“Hey Patrick.” Joe's voice. Patrick had his back to him, but soon realized he was simply staring at the wall. He didn't want to seem any kind of upset with Joe. “I didn't think you'd be here.”

“I produced this album,” Patrick said, turning to face Joe.

“Yeah, but you usually hate these events. That's why I came, because I didn't think you'd be here.” Patrick's face must have given away his true feelings because Joe suddenly backtracked. “No dude, not like that. I just didn't want you to have to, like, see my face.”

“And yet here I am,” Patrick said. He felt the heat fade and he suddenly felt as if any progress he'd made fell by the wayside. “You look happy. Or you did, when I saw you dancing with someone else.”

“Yeah.” Joe rocked back on his feet, running a hand through his curly hair. Patrick loved having Joe's head in his lap after a long day in the studio and running his fingers through it. Everything seemed to suck a lot more now.

“I miss you,” Patrick said and hated himself because Joe looked awkward and Patrick didn't want to sound pathetic or anything. He wished he hadn't had any booze at all. He wished he'd never turned up and simply sent a gift basket like he usually did. “That was the wrong thing to say.”

“No, it's alright. It was nearly two years.” Joe licked his lips, shuffling on his feet. He was wearing a shirt Patrick had bought him. “I actually-- I still have some stuff at your place I need to pick up. Guitars. Unless you've smashed them in rage.”

It was a joke, but Patrick would _never_ break a guitar. He kept a straight face and stared up at Joe, nodding his head. So long as he doesn't take the swing, Joe can take what he wants. It had been a gift, but Patrick had paid for the upgrade.

“Okay. That's fine. I don't miss you at all by the way, I'm just drunk.” Patrick stood as tall as he could, wishing he was drunker than he was, and it was two months back, when he didn't know Joe was sticking it in anyone else.

“You wanna lie about anything else?” Joe asked, but he didn't sound mad, just bitter. “You'll get over it.”

Patrick went home and cried because he was mad at himself and he missed Joe. He wished he hadn't said anything, wished he hadn't even attended the wrap party.

He spent the next few days sitting in his swing, sulking and listening to punk rock that he hadn’t cared for in years. He didn't want Joe, but he didn't want to go out and find someone to rebound with either. That's what he thought would happen.

“I don't know, I just figured I'd get over it better,” Patrick said to Vicky and Gabe when they had him round for dinner a few days later. “I humiliated myself at the wrap and fucked things up.”

“How can you fuck things up if you'd already broken up?” Gabe asked, with raised brows. He was such a shit stirrer, but Patrick had known him for five years now and it was too late to back out of the friendship.

“I didn't wanna expose my feelings to him. Wanted to be above all the heartbreak and stuff.” Patrick stared down at his plate of collard greens. “Now he thinks I'm, like, pining for him and I'm not.”

“At least he hasn't taken the swing. Isn't that what you were saying, Patrick? Just think about that,” Vicky said, downing her glass of wine. Sometimes it felt a little bit like they found his heartbreak amusing.

“Patty-boy, where'd that swing of yours come from? If you're not using it we'll take it off your hands,” Gabe said, like he was trying to lift Patrick's spirits. Patrick stabbed his fork into his greenery before answering.

“It's hoisted at the perfect level for me,” Patrick started to say. “It was a birthday present from Joe, because we had a lot of sex quickly and he thought we needed to spice things up. It was... it was the best. Better than anything he ever did for me so he's not having it back and you're not taking it either, but I can give you the details. Mine's a hammock based one so I wouldn't fall out, plus, I like to sit in it non sexually. I never bother strapping my ankles down though.”

“You could just buy an actual hammock,” Vicky pointed out, but there was no fun in that. “You need someone to fuck you in your sex swing, then you'll get out of this...whatever this is,” she told him, looking disgusted at his apparel. He was in Joe's Metallica shirt, but only because it was so soft and worn. It didn't really fit; was too baggy and long in the sleeves, but he didn't think they'd notice.

“I want you to fuck me in a sex swing,” Gabe said to Vicky. “Patrick, you're the second richest person I know, buy me a sex swing.”

“No,” Patrick said flatly. He wouldn't fund their sex life, only his own. “Wait, who's the first?”

 

The reviews for the record were pretty decent in terms of production. Patrick didn't think he was a terrible lyricist, he had his place, but he didn't help out on lyrics for this album and it was the area the reviews all said sucked. He wouldn't let them back in his studio without a writing team around them next time. Patrick was a control freak like that. He laid back in his swing, legs hooked over the suspended chains. It was a good thing he lived alone now; God knows what he looked like if anyone was to stand in the doorway.

He ended up scrolling through comments on his phone, then ended up clicking link after link until he somehow ended up reading articles about what virginity meant in a modern society. He used to care about shit like that, but he was so apathetic since Joe dumped him. He wished back his virginity that had long since left. He wished he hadn't discovered his kinky side; wished he didn't have a bottom drawer full of toys. Joe bought half of them for him, he liked watching Patrick fuck himself. Patrick tried to think about all the sex they had; all the memorable times they'd shared in bed. It made him feel worse, so he decided to check his emails for once.

As he wasn't scheduled in the studio for a few weeks, Patrick spent the next few days, curled up on his couch fantasizing about booking a vacation somewhere sunny where he'd meet some hot buff dude that wouldn't fall in love with Patrick, but would just fuck him senseless for the week. They wouldn't be musically inclined or smothered in tattoos, which was what Patrick usually landed inside himself. When the fantasy got a little _too_ specific, Patrick distracted himself by watching the _Star Wars_ Prequels. It wasn't as fun watching them without someone to slate them with.

Then it was time for another party at Gabe and Vicky's. He didn't mind because as it was a party it meant he wouldn't have to listen to them discuss Vicky femdomming Gabe anymore than he had too. Patrick was pretty sexually experienced, but he didn't subject anyone around him to the details of his activities.

Patrick sat on the porch of his friends' house and wondered when he became so distant and cynical. He needed someone in his studio, needed to iron out his issues with fresh music and someone he could boss into making a good album. He needed a distraction.

“Is this seat taken?” Patrick was shaken from his thoughts by some guy that had wandered into the backyard. He had two drinks in his hand and offered one to Patrick. It was some bright orange cocktail concoction that could only have been thought up in Saporta's mind. “I was told to come out here and bring this to the lonely looking guy on the porch.”

“Thanks.” Patrick took the drink, hesitating before taking a mouthful. There was too much rum for Patrick to enjoy the taste, but he gave a polite look all the same. “I don't know you.”

“Pete.” He held his hand out and Patrick took it. “I went to college with Gabe, we reconnected recently and I was invited to his party, but I don't know anyone.”

“I’m Patrick. Vicky used to be my PA. That's how we met and I don't know. Somehow now we're best friends and I have to listen to awkward stories about their sex life,” Patrick laughed, watching the Pete guy down half his drink in one. He was a braver man than him, with a larger tolerance for terrible cocktails.

When Pete wiped his mouth, he asked, “She stopped being your PA?”

“She said that it's the worst thing being PA for a workaholic who doesn't pay attention to business hours. I felt so bad about overworking her that I never hired anyone else.”

“That's weirdly sweet.”

“I don't need a PA. I just have higher-uppers come scream at me to check my emails every two weeks or so,” Patrick shrugged, laughing when Pete did.

“What is your job?”

“Music Producer. What about you?”

“What about me?” Pete raised his eyebrow, like he was trying for coyness. It didn't really work on him, but Patrick didn't mind. He was pretty hot. Patrick hadn't had a hot guy talk to him in forever that he could recall. At least a hot guy that he hadn't already slept with.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I write. Novels mostly, but currently I'm trying my luck as a screenwriter.”

“Oh that's awesome,” Patrick said, suddenly intrigued. Even though he met a ton of people in the entertainment business, he hadn't met a screenwriter that looked like Pete. “Wow. I always thought my job title was cool.”

“That's funny. You know, in college I used to write all of Gabe's speeches for debate. He was good at the speaking but a shitty writer, I was the other way.”

“Did he give you credit at least?”

“What do you think?” Pete pulled a face and Patrick laughed harder. He wasn't sure how much he had laughed recently, but his belly was starting to ache with how much he had started with Pete.

They ended up talking quite a bit. Pete had been a typical fiction writer; built up a collection of cult modern classics that Patrick had never heard of. He wrote the screenplay for the first adaptation and it became a pretty big thing. Now, he'd been bitten by the screenwriting bug and was adapting his second book as well as a brand new idea.

“I haven't heard of you, your books or your movies, but wow. You're like a big shot, congrats,” Patrick said, not wanting it to come out rude. He didn't think it did because Pete was smiling big. He had a lot of large white teeth. Patrick wanted to kiss him, but that would be weird so he didn't.

“You should watch the first movie and get back to me, either to critique or lavish me with kind words,” Pete said, he seemed both confident and awkward, Patrick liked it. His bad mood had lifted since he'd been interrupted and it felt like a good thing.

“I will do,” Patrick promised. “You have to give me your number first, though.”

“Sure. Right, okay.” Pete fumbled in his pocket and Patrick watched the dark flutter of his eyelashes as he whipped the phone out. He was in just a raggedy thin t-shirt, and had tattoos climbing both his arms. Patrick was a sucker for tattoos.

It was just a whole lot of fun talking to someone he didn't know, who had no opinion of him other than he thought Patrick was looking lonely. They talked for at least a couple of hours and Patrick was forced to finish his drink just to soothe his throat. Patrick went home that night feeling giddy because he'd made a new friend.

His giddiness was short lived because the next day Joe came over to collect his guitars. Patrick had locked the guest bedroom door, just in case, and was sitting on the key. He sat in his office, staring at his computer screen, but doing nothing. He listened to Joe's footsteps around the house, his heart thumping in his chest. Patrick always thought he was over Joe, and then he'd see him again and things went south.

He ended up following the sound of Joe's footsteps, until he was standing in his kitchen, watching Joe pack his guitars into their cases. There was a vintage Les Paul that Patrick had bought him for his last birthday, he didn't want it to leave his house.

“Wait, so how long were you cheating on me for?” it wasn't the words that Patrick planned on saying, but they were the ones that came out his mouth. Joe stood slowly and then turned around.

“I wouldn't want to torture you with the details,” Joe said and _ow,_ that hurt a lot more than Patrick thought it would. It felt like a good three months then. Joe must have figured he'd said the wrong thing again, because he bent his neck backwards and closed his eyes like he was exasperated. “I know you haven't really done the whole break up thing before so this is new to you, but let's just move on, okay? I only came here for my guitars and then we'll never have to see each other again.”

“Unless I see you at another wrap party,” Patrick pointed out. “Or the studio messes things up and hire you to work with me.”

“That won't happen.” Joe sounded both annoyed and like he was trying hard to be respectful. “I didn't think you'd be _this_ upset, dude. You know, I didn't think there was much to us other than sex.”

“What about Star Wars?” Patrick said softly. “And music, and to be honest, everything else because I shared my life with you for two years.”

“Well yeah, but you were in the studio for most of those two years.”

“But we had sex all the time, even when I was tired. And I wasn't always in the studio, plus working hard shouldn't be seen as a bad thing considering that I paid for the majority of things for this relationship.” It made sense, really, because Patrick made more money and this had been his home before he met Joe. It made sense because Patrick hadn't bothered to question Joe's intentions.

“I guess I realized you can have too much of a good thing. I mean, like the sex was all there was for me, I guess. Sorry. Not at first, but after a while. You're really good in bed, but like, that's all.”

“I'm a great producer,” Patrick said and his voice was shaking because being called good in bed had never felt so terrible.

“Yeah, but I'm not writing a record. Plus you never wanted to fucking leave the house when you were home. It was boring, I'm just being honest.” Joe held his hands up and Patrick started crying, which made things worse because he'd held them at bay in front of Joe for so long. Even when Joe told him he'd met someone else, Patrick had only got watery eyed and let his bottom lip wobble. He'd cried, but only when Joe wasn't in the room. Now it was like someone had turned his own personal faucet on and it wouldn't stop leaking.“Shit, don't cry. Come on, don't get upset.”

“You just said I was only good for sex!” Patrick shouted but then that felt way too dramatic and he didn't want to make things even more embarrassing for himself, so he just threw himself out of the room and cried on his bed until his throat hurt and his eyes were sore.

Patrick tried to cheer himself up with the fact that his house was now free of Joe's shit and that he, with all the luck in the world, would never have to see him again. Considering his embarrassing outburst he'd be really thankful if their paths were to not cross for at least five years.

He wanted to both mope and find the enthusiasm to work on some music, but he was worn out. He'd booked time off and he should probably make the most of it. He almost booked the vacation he'd been dreaming of before he thought it was maybe _too_ drastic.

In the end he remembered the name of Pete's movie and faffed around until he figured out how to download it. Joe had always dealt with the technology in the house and his Apple TV confused him, but he eventually worked it out.

It was okay actually. Like a weird dystopian horror set in Hollywood. It made Patrick want to read the books, even though he hardly read anything these days. He was so slow at it. It felt important to text Pete that he'd seen the movie, and so he did, desperate to know what happened to the characters. Patrick was a bad speller, but he felt as if he could fake text-speak enough to hide it.

“You could just read the books to find out,” Pete said, phoning Patrick when he got his text.

“I'm a really slow reader. Plus, you wrote it so you could tell me,” Patrick said, pausing the credits on the screen.

“You could just check Wikipedia. That's what most people do.”

“That's cheating,” Patrick insisted. “I hope the zombie apocalypse doesn't hit Studio City or I'll be fucked.”

“Nah, I'll keep you safe.” Pete paused for a moment, like he was trying to think of something else. “Do you wanna hang out or something?”

“Sure,” Patrick said without thinking. Usually his free time was spent with Vicky or at home. He wasn't really a people person. “Where?”

They ended up meeting up at an ice cream bar which was way too trendy for anywhere Patrick hung out, but well, _ice cream._ Patrick loaded his bowl up with excitement, waiting for Pete to arrive. When he did, he didn't even choose the pick your own and stuck to a plain blueberry frozen yogurt.

“That is the worst choice,” Patrick informed him, pointing his spoon at Pete's pretty purple dessert. “I almost wish I had kids so I could bring them here.”

“Yeah,” Pete shrugged. “But this way I can enjoy our date without dealing with a sugar crash in an hour’s time.”

“Your loss.” Patrick shoved a spoonful of sugary fudge and toffee sauce into his mouth. It almost made his teeth stick together. He was usually much more logical, but nerves had fried his brain to idiocy. “Is this a date?”

“Dunno, is it?” Pete asked and then smirked. “Why would you call me otherwise?”

“I guess. I just had a shitty few days and then I thought about booking a vacation but that was too drastic. Then I remembered that you wrote a movie so I watched that instead.”

“Did it help?”

“Help what?” Patrick asked, playing Pete at his own casual game.

“Watching my movie? I guess it is cheaper than a vacation.”

“I could do with a vacation.” Patrick hadn't been on one in years, only a few romantic breaks with Joe. “I could easily afford one, but I liked the movie. It made me want to read the book and that never happens.”

“You could listen to the audio book. That's what people do these days, the ones that have lives to lead instead of reading.”

“Yeah, I don't know how those work.” Patrick shoved more ice cream in his mouth and then shut his eyes to the brain freeze. “So you should tell me some college stories about Gabe so I can torture him with it later.”

Pete gave him plenty of shit on Gabe, but the problem with Saporta was that nothing could ever really surprise Patrick when it came to him. They took a walk away from the city streets, just talking. Patrick got a headache from the sugar, but he didn't say anything. They just talked for what seemed forever.

Every time Patrick met someone else from Chicago he just wanted to clutch hold of them forever and not let them go. It meant a little bit of home in a place he'd never really loved. By the time they went their separate ways, Patrick felt like he'd made an actual friend, fried brain cells and all.

They were in constant contact after that. Patrick had never been a great communicator but Pete made him laugh and it kept his mind off Joe, who he wasn't in love with, but was still mad at. Patrick went back to work and bossed around this kid who was probably fifteen, but had an entourage of the same amount. Luckily it was just one song they were working on and he worked with her quickly; sent her on her way.

“I thought it would be weird seeing Gabe again. He's the only other guy I know from college that didn't get a proper job though. Feels like we're in sync,” Pete said when they met for drinks after work one night. They did it a lot, and would spend the entire night flirting without touching or kissing. Pete always chose the trendiest of places to hang out, but he never really looked comfortable. Patrick wasn't either, but he always forgot about his surroundings when he was with Pete.

“I always hate seeing people from school,” Patrick admitted, pushing his straw into the lime wedge that had sunk to the bottom of his glass. “Makes me feel inadequate even though I'm successful.”

“That's the issue. I don't know... I do what I love, right? But I mean, seeing all my poli-sci buddies be professionals in their own right and then mentioning that I write zombie satire… it's embarrassing.”

“I don't think it's that bad,” Patrick said. Pete was _mega rich._ Vicky had told him when he'd mentioned that they'd been hanging out, but it was more than that. He had three houses across Chicago and LA, drove a fucking Porsche and never let Patrick pay for anything. Patrick had a room solely for a sex swing, but that was about as lavish as he got. “Tell them you make movies and that would shut them up. I remember going to my high school reunion and telling all the assholes that made fun of me that the song they were all dancing to three minutes ago was produced by me.”

“People made fun of you in high school?” Pete sounded horrified, but Patrick just laughed it off. 

“I never really paid much attention,” Patrick admitted, “But I was short, fat and, like, geekily obsessed with music. The chances are pretty high. I'm a modest guy. I don't think I'm all that, but it was pretty funny sticking it to them.”

“Well, fuck. I guess I'll bear that in mind.” Pete smiled and Patrick got fucking butterflies. He’d hooked up a lot in the past, but he hardly ever got butterflies from it. It wasn't just the tattoos or being from Illinois. Patrick felt like Pete liked him for more than just being a good producer. He's always felt like more of a casual friend to most people than anything serious. Gabe and Vicky had been the exceptions.

It was dark by the time they left the bar and Patrick was fine just leaving it as it was, but then he thought, fuck it, and invited Pete back to his. He probably wouldn't bring out the sex swing right away, that could scare Pete off. Part of him really wanted Pete to fuck him through his mattress, but the other part didn't want to give up on the cool friendship they had. Patrick's slutty side did win out this time, he just couldn't help himself.

They were in Pete's car, stationary because they hadn't even got to Patrick's yet. He had a tongue in his mouth and hands curling tight to Pete's jaw. Patrick wanted to have sex in a Porsche, he hadn't done _that_ before. There'd been a Mercedes once, but that was different. Who _hadn't_ had sex in a Mercedes.

Then the panicky side of Patrick took over in a way it hadn't ever before. He didn't want to fuck this up, didn't want a relationship with Pete to end up like his relationship with Joe, who only ever saw Patrick as a sex thing. He wanted to be liked for who he was, not how good he was.

“We...stop.” Patrick pulled away from Pete, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't quite gone over yet, hadn't been taken by the haze that had dragged him under a variety of men in the past. “We gotta stop a minute.”

“Is everything alright?” Pete asked. His lips were dark from kissing and his eyes were warm and Patrick just wanted to scramble his way into the backseat with him.

“I'm a virgin.” That...was not what Patrick planned to say, but he was so terrible at talking when he was distracted. A flash of the article he'd read a few months back popped into his head the same moment he started to talk and he couldn't think what else to do but go with it. “I haven't done this before.”

Pete suddenly pulled back, looking shocked. “Wait, what...like ever?”

“Yeah.” Patrick was usually a terrible liar and he was fairly certain he sounded unbelievable, but Pete looked to be believing him. “I'm a workaholic...it just never happened.”

“Well, shit.” Patrick couldn't barely believe himself. Why had he done this? Why had his stupid mouth said that? Pete pulled away, looking shocked. “This doesn't change unless you want it to.”

“Huh?” Patrick bit his tongue so he wouldn't say anything else.

“I still think you're a babe. I still wanna date you. We'll just take it slower.”

“No one's ever said that before,” Patrick said, which _was_ true. But then, no one had thought he was a virgin since college so, it kind of balanced out. “You don't care?”

“It's a little different,” Pete said, licking his lips. “But I mean, kissing is good for now. You're an amazing kisser so I can live with just that.”

“Well, I'm sure I can work my way up to it,” Patrick joked. Maybe it wasn't such a bad lie to tell. When he was ready, he could just let Pete take his virginity. It would be _fine._

“No seriously. I never wait,” Pete admitted. “I always rush into everything so it could be good for us both. I mean, if you're still up for it.”

“Uh huh, I'm up for it,” Patrick said, smiling with what he hoped wasn't too much hysteria as Pete stroked a hand down his cheek. “Definitely up for dating you.”

 

Naturally the best thing to do when such a crisis occurred was go straight to Vicky's house after and explain everything.

“You told him you were a _virgin?”_ Vicky said incredulously, as he explained everything to her. “And he _believed_ you? Gabe come here!” Patrick sat with his head in his hands as Gabe pranced into the kitchen. Maybe he shouldn't have told Vicky.

“What the fuck, dude?” Was all Gabe said, before descending into laughter.

“I just thought… well because Joe only wanted me for sex, and that's not what I wanna go through again, I just figured I could tell him I wanted to wait until we were ready to move to that stage, but it came out wrong.”

“Joe wasn't with you only for sex,” Vicky said, rolling his eyes. She didn't get it though. He and Joe planned on just dating when they first met, but then Joe fucked him on the kitchen floor before their first date. That's just how they started, and well, finished. “Just call Pete and tell him you had one of your panicky outbursts.”

“Absolutely not! I _like_ him and anyway, it's only going to last as long as I don't have sex with him. Then I can just… you know… anyway this all came about because I read an interview.”

“Oh God…" Gabe interrupted, but Patrick flipped him off.

“No, see I read an article and virginity is only a social construct and so it's not even a real thing so why can't I reclaim it?” Patrick stared at them both, watching Vicky try and keep her face clear from anything. They'd be laughing at him forever, he knew that much.

“But if you think it's a social construct that isn't real then how can you reclaim it?” She asked, but Patrick shook his head. He didn't care to discuss such little details.

“Does it matter? Either way, I'm now a virgin that hasn't ever had a boyfriend and you have to go along with it, just for now.”

“No, I don't,” Gabe laughed. “I've known him longer.”

_“Please.”_ Patrick was not above begging at this point. “I will buy you a sex swing, I'll dedicate a song to you.”

Patrick watched Gabe narrow his eyes. He knew what was coming.

“Buy one of my paintings. Hang it in your fancy ass foyer.” Gabe's artistic side somehow paid the bills, though Patrick didn't know how. He was like a pornographic Dali, with melted cocks instead of clocks. Patrick loved the guy, but he always refused to buy a piece. “Do it and I'll keep your weird as fuck secret.”

“You're an asshole,” Patrick told him, his way of agreeing. He wouldn't hang it in the foyer. Maybe in his guest room to make Pete laugh when they eventually get around to fucking. When Pete took his virginity.

 

Once the lie had been told, Patrick found he could go along with it pretty well. Pete was so earnest and respectful of Patrick's confessed virginity that he no longer pushed at all toward sex of any kind. The only downside was that Patrick really had to push for their make out sessions to last longer than thirty seconds.

“I just don't wanna pressure you,” Pete had said, refusing to rest all of his weight down on top of Patrick.

“I have done this part before.” Patrick sat up when he figured he wasn't getting any more action. He didn't mind really, with no expectation of sex they got to hang out more and just talk shit forever. He really loved talking to Pete, he liked looking at him and kissing him as well, but he just felt like he'd found someone that finally understood him.

“You ever had a boyfriend?” Pete asked. They were at Pete's house, which was this sprawling mansion set high in the hills. Patrick wasn't used to being the less rich one. He was modestly rich; more than his car, house and appearance let on, but Pete was on a whole new scale. He was _loaded._ He had three fancy cars in his garage that Patrick was terrified of even touching with his finger in case he accidentally scratched them.

“None.” Patrick had Joe, which was only one and so was basically none. He didn't want to lie anymore, but Pete was hardly going to believe that Patrick had remained a virgin in a nearly two-year relationship. “But, I mean, I have dated before.”

“I’m not judging you, I hope you know that,” Pete said. He had a great face, nice eyes, nice mouth. He looked like he could fuck pretty well, too. “I just haven't met a virgin in a really long time.”

“Like I said, I'm a workaholic.” Patrick pecked Pete's mouth and then looked away in what he hoped was coyness.

He was still in the studio. A band had booked to write with him and it was a nice change. His gateway into music had been by writing for bands before he switched to production. He'd worked with this band a few times and they meshed well. He was a little less _forceful_ than when he was producing, but he still had high expectations.

“Rumor has it you broke up with Joe…” the singer said. Patrick had been drunk the one time they'd hooked up at an awards after show. It would have been hugely out of character otherwise. Patrick was a slut, but he had some taste when it came to his sober inclinations. Patrick only agreed to work with the band because he had ties with the drummer.

“Yeah we did, but I'm seeing someone else now.” Patrick smiled tightly, closing his legs. He had a tendency to open them when he was comfortable. He had to learn to break the habit, he knew that much. He didn't want it getting him into any more trouble.

“Call me in a week then,” the man laughed. Patrick didn't find it funny, not at all. He wanted to blame Joe, who was at the bottom of most of Patrick's issues lately, but somehow he felt it was more to do with him than anything else.

The comment put Patrick in such a shitty mood, that he finished the session early. He wanted to go fester in his anger for a while, or do something to take his mind off the fact that he mixed sex with work way too much.

In the end though he ended up calling Pete, asking him out on a date. Pete said he couldn't go out because he was doing research for his next book. He invited Patrick over and though he was confused at this point, all Patrick wanted to do was hang out with Pete, so he agreed.

It turned out that Pete's research was simply a pile of German zombie movies he was making his way through. Watching gory brain eating zombies in Pete's giant movie theater wasn't Patrick's ideal date, but he just curled up against him and shut his eyes. He wasn't really interested in talking much anyway. There should be something in the fact that Patrick was seeking comfort with a man that thought he was a virgin, when the source of his upset was his own muddled history of sex.

“You alright? You seem quiet,” Pete said at one point. His hand was running in light circles through Patrick's hair and it was so soothing that he'd almost fallen into a doze.

“Just a bad day at work,” Patrick responded, rubbing at his eyes. “I was writing with this band and I hate the singer, that's all.”

“That's shitty, I bet he's a huge ass if you don't like him,” Pete said, and he sounded so serious that Patrick smiled to himself. “I thought you just produced.”

“Jack of all musical trades, really. Producing is what I do best, but I love creating in any shape or form.” Patrick sat up, watching Pete stare at him with interest.

“How did you get into it?” That was a awkward. Patrick had always wanted to work as a producer and it totally wasn't a gross thing, but he'd happened to be sleeping with this label boss at the time and he allowed Patrick access to a studio as well as his dick. Patrick had a band that needed a good producer and they all headed into the studio. That had been his platform into the world and he'd climbed to the top from there.

“I did a lot of networking,” Patrick said instead, fighting down his existential crisis. Why had he allowed his sex life to follow so closely with his career? Why had he not found a nice guy like Pete to settle down with instead? “How about you? How are you so rich? You shouldn't be with a couple of books and a new script to your career. I mean, not _this_ rich.”

“Rich successful parents meant that they knew how to invest and to make sure I sign really awesome contracts. I have money in property, a really strong line of merch for my books and movies and I do paid appearances at like cons and shit. But mostly property, that's where the big bucks comes from.”

“Well shit, you're like a real deal businessman.” Patrick tried to hold his swooning back because businessmen never came in a package as hot as Pete, or as unslick. Patrick was used to being the rich one in a relationship, but Pete had a fair few more zeros at the end of his account than Patrick. Maybe it was the lack of sex they were having, but it was kind of a turn on.

“You could be a sugar daddy!” Patrick said, which again, shouldn't have come out. He slowly closed his mouth. Pete raised his eyebrow and Patrick berated himself over and over. Why did he _always_ say such weird shit?

“Well not with you. A virginal sugar baby? We'd fail the fuck out of that agreement.” He nudged Patrick's side, like it wasn't a big deal. He was smiling like he just found Patrick to be kind of funny.

“Sometimes when I open my mouth the weirdest shit comes out and I don't even know why. I just panic-blurt things out.” Patrick slumped against Pete. “Even if you were a sugar daddy you couldn't be mine because I make good money already.”

“Plus as a sugar daddy I'd be expecting sex in return. Which I'm one hundred percent not expecting from you.” Pete wrapped their fingers together. Patrick remembered that when he was with Joe he sometimes felt so needy, he was always the one wanting to cuddle and kiss on the couch. “I'm, like, the truest of all gentlemen.”

“A true gentleman doesn't write zombie novels,” Patrick informed Pete, trying to keep the smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kissed Pete’s mouth, curling a hand over his jaw. “That's just a fact.”

Pete had this giant slab of unfinished (but finished) looking wood that was supposedly a dining table. They ate take-out noodles on it, but all Patrick could think about was getting fucked on it. Technically, Patrick was a power bottom and loved all control in the bedroom, but damn, he'd let Pete take the reigns if they fucked on this table. Patrick was salivating at the thought. Maybe it would be cool to lose his virginity on it. It sounded like a rad idea, more doable than the sex swing. He couldn't wait.

Pete asked him to spend the night and Patrick wasn't going to say no. He was due in the studio mid-morning and it was a longer drive than from his house, but it would be worth it. Pete made him forget all about his issues and they had fun together. It was so good having fun outside of the bedroom, it hardly ever happened these days.

“You're cool with sharing a bed, right?” Pete said. Patrick had been staring at Pete's bedroom in awe. It was so fancy. Big bed, big fuzzy rug. A TV mounted on the wall opposite, so large that it was almost the length of the entire wall.

“Yeah, I can share a bed,” Patrick laughed, waiting for Pete to fall onto the bed with relief before he moved a hand against him. “Just to warn you, I'm a cuddler.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete's lips turned up into a smile, his hand gently stroking Patrick's face. “I think I can deal with that.”

“Good. That's the only warning you get. ” They watched _The Dark Knight_ in bed and Patrick couldn't help his enthusiasm for the score leaking out. Pete let him ramble on though, pretending to listen.

“I just think that movie scores are seriously underrated. They can cover shitty acting, directing, cinematography… basically everything. I love music, but I almost love it best when it's put to a good movie.”

“You should score my movie,” Pete said lazily. Patrick had flopped against him and it just felt normal. There wasn't any expectations, no need for Patrick to be anything other than a little bit sleepy.

“Yeah right,” Patrick said, looking back at the screen. To be fair, it was quite hard to see anything other than Christian Bale brooding on the screen when it took up most of the wall.

“Whatever dude, I have creative control, I made sure of it when I signed the movie deal. I have final say over everything.”

“You make wise business decisions,” Patrick told him, instead of allowing the conversation to develop. He didn't want to land himself into anything deep without thinking things over.

“Yeah. I don't get everything right in life but I always make sure my attorney reads through everything before I sign anything.”

“You are a very wise man,” Patrick told Pete, before snuggling closer. It was maybe the best date they'd been on yet.

Patrick definitely did _not_ want to leave Pete's bed the next morning. It was warm, dark and a billion times more comfortable than Patrick's.

“You were right,” Pete said. Patrick had been stroking his fingers up and down his chest, but he hadn't known he was awake. “You are a huge cuddler.”

“Sorry,” Patrick said, propping himself up. “Was it annoying?”

“Nah, you're good. I liked it.” Pete lifted his hand to Patrick's bangs, running his fingers through it. “I'm not much of a sleeper, but you made the dark a whole lot less lonely.”

“Oh okay.” Joe had called Patrick clingy when they first started sleeping together so he'd held back, but he couldn't tell Pete that. “I could stay like this for, like, ever.”

“Don't you have work?” Patrick had flopped back down against Pete's chest. He could feel the steady beat of Pete's heart and he rubbed his cheek against it.

“I'd rather stay here,” Patrick said. “With you in your bed.”

“I'd rather that too, but… “ Pete suddenly sat up, so that Patrick fell awkwardly onto his back. He couldn't complain too much because Pete was soon on top of him, pressing Patrick down into the bed. “We can reconvene.”

Patrick opened his mouth to Pete's tongue and his legs too. Patrick hadn't had a huge amount of morning sex; people never wanted to stick around past eight and he and Joe always tended to fuck at night.

“You are so fucking warm,” Pete said, his hands sliding up Patrick's shirt. Patrick could feel Pete's dick hard against his hip and boy it has been too long. Patrick shifted his thigh, to feel the length of it but Pete quickly moved back. He kissed Patrick's nose and then sat up. “We better stop before anything else happens between us. I don't wanna rush you.”

“You're not. This is good,” Patrick said. He pulled his shirt down, trying to fight any emotions. He was disappointed that they weren't going further, but kind of happy that Pete wasn't trying to rush him. It made him seem like a good guy. It made Patrick really want to suck his dick.

_Okay._

“But you've gotta get to work, and I have more research to do.” Pete had a hard on and Patrick was staring. Patrick _loved_ sucking dick. He was so good at it too, he never had any complaints.

“Watching movies isn't research,” Patrick informed Pete, finally looking up. Pete looked like he wasn't sure what to do, but even if Patrick _was_ a virgin, it didn't mean he couldn't look.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick sat in his studio the rest of the day with dick on his mind. As much as he loved getting fucked, which was all he'd been thinking about recently, he was so good at giving head. People always said that a cock in his mouth was the only way to shut him up in bed. Cocksucking tended to soothe his sharper moments. 

Patrick was going over a few final touches on a song. He didn't have the client in with him, which meant he could half-ass it a little more. Thinking about sucking Pete's dick was seriously distracting. 

When the frustration and buzzing desire became too much, Patrick tried to fling himself into working harder on the song. It became a little more dirtier and a lot more sexy. They needed to layer up the bass to give it a little more oomph, but Patrick literally heard his desire through the song. As a music nerd, he found it amazing. 

“I have good news,” Vicky said to Patrick down the phone a day later. He was doing his housework, or simply holding the nipple clamps he’d found down the back of his couch as he listened to her on loud speaker. “Gabe’s been talking to Pete a ton recently, but apparently all he talks about is you.”

“That is good news,” Patrick said, dropping the chain to his cluttered coffee table and falling back on his couch instead. He’d vacuumed his rug, that was enough cleaning for now. “I talk about him a lot too.”

“I know.  Anyway, he told Gabe that he’s totally respecting your virginity, but it’s really hard because you’re a very touchy person. Patrick don’t be a stage five clinger.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Patrick admitted. “It’s so fun being with him. The more I spend around people at work...all the people I’ve slept with, the more I want to hang out with him. Whenever anyone talks to me outside of music, it’s to ask to fuck because they know I’m single again. No one ever wants to just talk to me outside Pete.”

“Aside from Gabe and me,” Vicky added, but they didn’t count. “That’s shitty, I’m sorry people are huge assholes, but maybe you should come clean with Pete. If you really like each other, then it’s probably a good thing. At least tell him you've let other people put the tip in.”

“I think it’s too late, plus it’s really cute how earnest he is. He’s so attentive and he listens to me talk about music even when I get rambly,” Patrick let out a sigh. “I keep thinking about him...keep thinking about letting him see everything I can do on my swing.”

“Thanks for the imagery, asshole,” Vicky laughed, hanging up. Patrick didn’t care. Gabe gave him enough descriptions of their love life to give Patrick nightmares for eternity. Some things you just don’t want to imagine your friends doing.

 

The next time Pete called wanting to hang out, Patrick was in the studio. He invited him over. Pete had shown him how he worked, even if it was just by watching zombie movies. Maybe it was time to give Pete a tour. 

“Technically I own the building, but I rent out the other rooms. This studio is my base though, no one else records in it, ” Patrick said, waving his hands at his studio. “The rest is pretty much a free for all.

“So you're your own boss?” Pete said, wandering over to the isolation booth. Patrick had a drum kit standing proud behind the glass. It was his baby. 

“Not exactly. I have like higher ups, but I ignore them.” Patrick laughed awkwardly, sitting on the couch. “It's a good job I write hits, I think everyone finds me to be a pain in the ass.”

“I could see that,” Pete joked, falling beside Patrick. Patrick gave him a pained expression, but then turned his chin up. “Come on then, show me how this all works.”

Patrick did feel a little like he was preening his plumage as he showed Pete around his studios. There was a team working in one of the other rooms, but Patrick was alone in his. It was a good thing, really, he didn’t want anyone blowing the fact that they’d slept with him at one point or another.

“This is where the magic happens,” Patrick said, swanning over to the mixing deck. “This baby cost me so much money, but I love her.”

“I guess that's why you're a virgin,” Pete joked and Patrick had to bite his tongue to prove otherwise. “You look happy in here, sometimes you seem a bit lost in the world. ”

“You read me well,” Patrick smiled, but the comment didn't make him feel great. He always thought he faked his uneasiness better than that. “Wanna watch me work?”

“Alright, show me how it’s done, Mr Producer.” Patrick always had something on the go and he pulled up a fresh track he’d been working on for himself. “You have an awesome voice,” Pete said after the track finished. It was still raw; Patrick wasn’t sure why he was even showing Pete, who he should be trying to impress. “You ever try to be on the other side?”

“As a performer?” Patrick asked, and Pete nodded his head. “I can hold a tune, I can play okay, but I’m happiest when I’m creating. Plus, I don’t have star quality. I’m better and happier when I’m in my studio. I’ll probably just sell this song to someone.”

“So you’re kinda like a ghost writer,” Pete said, but he was frowning like he felt bad for Patrick. “Which, for the record, I do not use.”

“I’m glad you write your own zombie books,” Patrick told Pete, pulling his glasses off to give him a serious look. Neither lasted long before descending into stupid laughter. “One day you should give me  a few lines of your book and I’ll write the music to go along with it. It could go on your next soundtrack. It could be the theme song!”

“That sounds like a _terrible_ idea...when can we start?” Pete said, before they started laughing again. He had the warmest eyes when he laughed. Patrick didn’t tell him that though. 

They ended ended up making out fifteen minutes later. Patrick straddled Pete’s lap; he figured a month of dating gave him enough time to do so. God, it felt like slipping back into a really comfortable pair of slippers, his weight on top of someone else, having that little bit of control he didn’t get when he was beneath someone.

“I like this,” Patrick said between their shared breaths. Their noses bumped as he stroked his fingers through Pete’s hair. He felt hands on his own thighs, sliding up and down. “I like kissing you.”

“Same.” Pete deepened the kiss for a few seconds. Patrick could feel how tense his body was beneath him, like he really really wanted to do something more.

“You know, I think I’m ready to take things a little further.” Patrick wanted to suck Pete’s dick so bad, wanted it to fill his mouth up. Over the years, Patrick had become well versed in the art of deep throat and he wondered how Pete would react to it. Patrick would have to pretend that he didn’t know how he did it, but Pete would be too busy getting his dick fucking deep throated to question Patrick’s experience. 

“I don’t know,” Pete said suddenly, breaking up Patrick’s cock-sucking thoughts. Patrick sat back, heavy over Pete’s lap. Pete laughed, grasping Patrick’s cheeks in his hands. “Don't look offended, but it shouldn’t be something we do spur of the moment. It should be romantic.” 

“But why?” Patrick asked. “I swear I’m ready to suck your dick. You can suck mine too if you like.”

“Can I eat you out?” Pete asked. It was just like that dream Patrick had once, only it was Pete saying it rather than Jeff Goldblum. _Yes yes yes._ Patrick’s third favorite thing after sucking dick and getting fucked would be an awesome rimjob. 

“Please.” Patrick shut his eyes, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “We can do that.”

“Yeah we can, but not today. I want it to be perfect.” What an asshole. Patrick peeled his eyes open. Pete had flushed cheeks and a semi that Patrick was sitting on. He wanted this just as much, Patrick could tell. “You’ve waited a long-ass time and I don’t want you to lose it without thinking things over.”

“If not now, then when?” Patrick said, trying to keep the dramatics out of his tone, but he’d been ready to move to the next stage since he’d spent the night at Pete’s.

“Dunno, but it’s gotta be special. It’s gotta be roses on the bed and a candlelit dinner and like, all the shit the movies say sex should be like because it never is.” It’s true that Patrick, who had had a lot of sex in his life, had never actually had it that way. Maybe Pete had a point.

“But one day soon?” Patrick asked. He was an idiot for proclaiming to be a virgin. He felt it more now than ever. “One day soon we’ll do more than make out.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I promise.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s ass and it was a little too domineering for Patrick’s liking. As it was Pete, and he thought Patrick was a virgin, he simply just giggled and tucked his head to Pete’s neck.

 

“I have tickets to a gig,” Patrick told Pete on the phone a week later. “It's a surprise though.”

“Is it one of your gigs?”

“I don't perform live,” Patrick told Pete quickly. “I am not associated with the acts playing at all, but I thought it'd be fun.”

“Sure, I'll always say yes to a date with you,” Pete said. He sounded so serious. It made Patrick's legs jiggle and his stomach flip. “Maybe you could sleep over again.”

“If you don't mind my cuddling ways again.” Patrick didn't wait for Pete to respond. “Okay, so I will pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”

“Alright,” Pete laughed. Patrick wished he was there in person instead. 

Patrick packed earbuds just in case, but he was half deaf anyway, from years of live shows and loud music. It didn't matter because Pete looked happy to see him when he opened his giant doors and kissed his cheek. 

“Where are we going, then?” he asked and he looked good. Tight black jeans, an oversized t-shirt. Everything was dark and Patrick was so starved for affection. 

“So it turns out zombiecore is a legit form of music… I think it's like thrash metal, but about zombies so I got us tickets to one of the best ones around.” Patrick held up the paper tickets in his hand. 

“I can't picture you at a metal show,” Pete said casually, looking down at the tickets. “This sounds killer, but not your scene at all.”

“I'm a fan of good music period,” Patrick laughed. How many metal shows had he been to with Joe? A fuck ton. “It just happens that metal is short on talent, aside from the classics.”

“Metallica fucking own at least seventy-five percent of my soul,” Pete said but Patrick scoffed. That was such an obvious comment. 

“Slayer are superior to Metallica in every way, but to be honest, I doubt anything we see tonight will match either band.” Patrick told Pete, and then he leaned in for more than just a kissed cheek. 

“Shitty gigs make the best dates.” Pete's hand was suddenly tugging at the side of Patrick's hair, thumb pressing into the side of Patrick's jaw. Pete's hands weren't all that big, but he knew where to put them to make Patrick's pulse race.

Patrick felt out of place as they headed into the venue; it was mainly sweaty goths with a few metalheads thrown in for good measure. He didn’t let it get to him too much, after all, he spent most of his life feeling out of place. Besides, with Pete, he tended to forget about everything else.

“Maybe you’ll find some inspiration here.” They’d sneaked their way up to the balcony, wedged into the furthest corner and pressed close to the banister. It was a cozy spot and Patrick loved having Pete pressed against him, like they were in a separate bubble. “You know, for your zombie books.”

“Maybe yeah,” Pete slurped his beer from the plastic cup, staring at Patrick over the rim. 

As Patrick suspected, the music was terrible. It could do with someone like Joe backstage, tweaking guitars until things were a little more smooth. There was too much distortion and feedback, it wasn't a deliberate effect. Joe may have cheated on Patrick, but there was no denying his skills as a tech, in the studio and at shows.

That didn't stop Patrick having a good time. He was sweating like crazy, hair slicked down to his forehead. He was pressed tight to the bar half by Pete’s body behind him, half by the rest of the crowd. He didn't mind, he liked looking down at the pit below them and seeing the mass of bodies crashing around each other.

“Technically they need a lot of work, but that was fun,” Patrick said to Pete as it finished and they followed the crowd out onto the streets. The sweat was cooling in the night air and he felt pretty gross. He probably looked horrendous, but Pete was holding his hand so it couldn't be that bad. “Did you get any inspiration?”

“I have a confession,” Pete said, laughing and steering Patrick into the parking lot. They took his car because any opportunity for Patrick to sit in his fancy-ass Porsche was one he wanted to take. “I'm not actually, like, a legit fan of zombies.”

“For real?” Patrick asked, looking over at Pete as they got to the car. “But all of your novels...your fucking movie contract! That's all about zombies.”

“I knew I wanted to write about the supernatural in our world,” Pete said as they ducked and climbed into the car. He was looking over at Patrick sheepishly. “Zombies are the most marketable. Regular people like zombies as well as nerds. Vampires well... that's mostly just goths and teenage girls. There wouldn't be as much of a market.”

“So much for writing from the heart,” Patrick said, but it wasn't like he cared. “But you're right, I don't think I could date a guy that wrote vampire books.”

“I chose well then,” Pete laughed, but he was still staring at Patrick. “Despite zombiecore not being something I actually knew existed, I had a fun time.”

“Me too.” Patrick smiled and looked away.

Pete’s shower was way too complicated to work out and Patrick was half tempted to grab Pete from wherever he was and explain that he'd need to shower with Patrick to show how it's done. Maybe they could make out beneath the water; maybe Patrick would sink to his knees and suck Pete off. Blow jobs didn't count as virginity, right?

He managed to get it working after a while; though not before he was drenched in icy-cold water before he twisted the dial to a warmer setting. He left the shower feeling warm and clean, even if he was having to wear a Metallica shirt rather than Slayer.

In the end he found Pete lurking not far from the bathroom, like he wasn't sure whether to stray too far from where Patrick was. Patrick didn't mind, he threw his arms over Pete’s shoulders and kissed him fully on the mouth, their bodies pressed together. Maybe they wouldn't have sex tonight, but handjobs could be cute. Maybe Patrick could convince Pete to finger him a bit.

“I got something I wanna show you,” Pete said as they pulled away. His hand rested on the small of Patrick's back, just above the swell of his ass and it was so hot. He pushed back against Pete’s hand until he laughed and patted Patrick before pulling him down the hallway.

“Honestly, I didn't even furnish this house. I paid a company to do it for me, but I did have one thing I wanted,” Pete explained, pulling them toward a door close to his bedroom. Patrick's stomach flipped; maybe Pete had a sex swing too. “Shut your eyes.”

Patrick did as he was told, listening to the sound of Pete opening the door. He waited in excitement. When he peeled his eyes open on Pete’s word, all he saw was a very large bed. Not as large as the one in his bedroom, but still big.

“Sit on it.” Patrick stepped forward and carefully sat on the edge. Immediately he swayed, stumbling to his side. Okay, it _was_ awesome. Patrick laughed, flopping onto his back and feeling weightless.

“You have a waterbed!” Patrick laughed, watching Pete climb onto the bed beside him. “Why do you have a waterbed?”

“I always wanted one growing up, but my parents said they were a waste of money.” Patrick's mom said the same, but a friend in middle school had one and they'd never had more fun at eleven. “The upkeep is insane so basically they are a waste of money, but I have money to waste so I don't mind.”

“This is so cool.” Patrick lifted his arms above his head. The waves were kind of weird, but he felt weightless. He hadn't ever had sex in a waterbed before. “What's sex like in it?”

“Uh, you can't be too forceful because the motions of the bed go against you,” Pete said, which sounded disappointing. Patrick was an enthusiastic bottom; he loved to ride or push back against a dick if he was taking it from behind. “It's good for slow though. No sore muscles after, unless, you know, you're getting fucked hard.”

“You wanna fuck me hard?” Patrick said, realizing when he saw Pete’s face that it was too forward. Then, he felt shitty because while he was supposed to be a virgin, that kind of comment shouldn't leave Pete looking like he'd rather do anything but. Patrick went to sit up, but Pete pushed him back down, sitting above him.

“I do want to do that. I want to do that so hard every time that we're together, but I have another confession and I don't want you to hate me for it.” Okay Patrick wasn't feeling happy about being on a waterbed now, and considering the movement of the bed, it wouldn't be an easy one to flee from. He'd probably land flat on his face.

“Okay,” Patrick said softly.

“I've been with a lot of people over the years and not always in the best way. I get bored quickly and fuck things up. I've started relationships when I'm not out of other ones. I just… I rush things and you feel like my chance to change that.”

Patrick stared at Pete and wondered. If this was their Night of Revelations, then maybe Patrick could explain that he wasn't exactly a virgin. They both didn't want to rush, and so he could just tell him that. Pete wouldn't be mad, Patrick was certain. 

“We're definitely not rushing,” Patrick said. “So basically we're like each others firsts.” He smiled even though he knew he was a gigantic idiot, a fool beyond measure. 

“If that's okay with you, I mean.” Pete stroked Patrick's hip, eyes down on his face. “I don't wanna lose what we have which is why I want to take this slow. Like, so I don't fuck this up for once.”

“Same.” Patrick smiled, even as Pete frowned. The water bed was really comfy so long as he didn't move. He just stared up at Pete, wishing he had it in him to just tell Pete the truth, but his tongue seemed glued tight. Pete treated him a whole lot better than anyone else and if he knew the truth, he might just think the same. 

They didn’t stay on the waterbed too long. Patrick started to feel a little seasick, but it was probably the conversation they’d just had and his decision to keep the truth to himself. He took Pete’s word for it that sex on the waterbed would be decent. One day they would. They piled into Pete’s humongous bed instead. Patrick wedged himself against Pete’s chest and a ton of cushions and pillows. He listened to Pete’s heart, trying to stop his own from racing too hard.

Patrick counted at least three people over a week at work that offered to sleep with him. Commiserations about his relationship with Joe had slowly started to stop and they weren't bothering to dress up their implications with anything other than whether he wanted another round.

Patrick ignored them all. He bought a fancy display cabinet with lights that automatically turned on when the doors opened and he made Vicky and Gabe put it together for him as he sat in his swing. It cheered him up immensely.

“A song I wrote is number one in three countries in Europe right now,” Patrick told them both, sitting in his swing. He kept it clean and sat with his legs on the floor, watching them sweat over his new cabinet. “I'm big in Europe.”

“Congrats,” Vicky said halfheartedly. She wiped at her brow and then looked at him. “Why are we building this for you? Do I want to know?”

“Not really. Think about where you're building it,” Patrick explained. “Thanks for doing this though. Joe always locked me out the room when he was building shit, he said I got in the way.”

“I could see that being an issue,” Gabe said. He had a hammer in one hand, a plank of wood in the other, and was looking confused about them both. Really, it was little more than a flat pack wardrobe, but Patrick figured his input was not needed.

By the time his friends had put together his new piece of furniture and had been paid heavily in booze, Patrick had called them a cab and sent them home. Patrick had a _lot_ of sex toys that really deserved more than to be shoved in a bottom draw. He laid them out in style. Vibrators on one row, his fancy glass plugs in the middle and an assortment of restraints on the bottom. He had fun just opening and closing his new cabinet for a while, watching his display light up.

Patrick wasn't naturally submissive, could be kind of bratty if anyone forced compliance, but he did like getting pushed around and he did like the feeling of getting fucked in his swing, ankles in the straps. The feeling of not being able to do anything but take it deep and hard was better than anything, plus he could still mouth off. Patrick _loved_ to mouth off.

Part of Patrick really didn't want to use any toys at all until after he slept with Pete. That way he'd be tight as anything, and maybe, possibly, unused to the sensation that he could pretend a little easier. He missed it too much though, the feel of a toy was so different to a man anyway. 

Plus Patrick thought it might spice things up a little bit. Wearing a plug on a date with Pete and him having no idea. He'd worn them out before, but Joe had always known. Joe'd teased him throughout the night, pushing Patrick to the edge but knowing he couldn't come. Patrick had always played him at his own game though, tying Joe down when they got home and riding him fast and hard until he came. Nights like that, Joe had been a hot dildo for Patrick. He even let Joe bareback him on those nights.

Pete was taking him to a party and it seemed as good a time as any to reintroduce his body to his old toys. He chose a smallish glass plug that was slightly textured and blue. He liked blue. He wished it didn't have _spank me_ written across the flared base, but it wasn't like anyone was going to see it. Joe had bought this one for him after finding out that Patrick had, in fact, loved getting spanked on occasion. One time they did it doggy style in the sex swing and Patrick hadn't anticipated the ass-slapping Joe would dish out that night. He'd almost come from that alone. Though of course he'd denied it to Joe. It wasn't one of Patrick's brightest moments. 

It did feel pretty odd to be filled up again after nearly three months of no sex. It felt really hot seeing Pete as they headed into the party. Everything felt good even if Patrick hated parties, especially ones filled with people he didn't recognize.

“Whose party is this?” Patrick asked. They were in someone's mansion, a little smaller than Pete’s. Patrick held tight to Pete’s hand because all his senses were on edge, it was probably the adrenaline and excitement of wearing the plug around Pete, amplified by the fact that he generally got overwhelmed by crowds when it wasn't an environment he could control.

“Uh, a front-man for a band. I'm besties with the drummer. He invited me and I hate parties like this, but I didn't want to go alone,” Pete admitted, grimacing at Patrick. It settled Patrick knowing he wasn't alone in this. 

“Are they a good band? By the way, you're too old to use the phrase besties,” Patrick told Pete, bumping his way under his arm. 

“They're probably not a good band by your standards, _no_ ,” Pete teased, steering Patrick into a gigantic kitchen. “I'm not really into acting my age, either.”

“You do write zombie novels after all.” Patrick didn't mind Pete kissing him, no one was watching them. “But that's okay.”

Patrick met the drummer, who was a guy named Andy. He would have been Patrick's type if he hadn't already bagged the hottest guy in the room, but he was polite and didn't make any weird comments about Patrick.

“Are you alright? You're all flushed,” Pete said. Patrick was hard; every moment had the plug shifting slightly and he hadn't gone out with a plug in in forever. He felt like he was getting fucked in a room of people, but that no one knew. A secret between him and his plug.

“Yeah. Good. I feel a little…” Patrick sat close to Pete. The house was packed tight, full of rockers and girls of a variety of ages, mostly young. “Just maybe claustrophobic.”

“You wanna go outside?” Pete asked, but Patrick shook his head. He just wanted to stay as close to Pete as possible. It kept the buzz alive and stopped it spiraling into something not quite as sweet. “How about we sit pretty for an hour and then head off?”

“Yeah.” Patrick hadn't really thought through the whole wearing a plug for the whole time they'd be on the date… maybe he'd invite Pete back to his and then sneak off to the shower and _wind_ down a little. 

There was something Patrick had never noticed about being in a crowded party with the one person he cared about right now. He could hear music, cheers, shouting and singing, but all he was focused on was Pete's hand on his thigh and the way they could talk shit back and forth without any thought. 

Naturally though, everything had to go askew. One minute Patrick was ignoring the plug in his ass and talking about how he'd produced a hit single in three European countries, the next Pete's eyes were lighting up as someone stepped into the room. 

“What the fuck! If it isn't Joe Trohman all grown up!” Patrick almost choked, looking over his shoulder to see his ex at first smiling at Pete, but then looking surprised at how Patrick was clutching to Pete's hand and tucked tight to his side. 

“Yeah, hi,” Joe said, looking cautiously at Patrick, who couldn't seem to unfreeze his body. “It's been a while. Like, years.”

Pete was practically bouncing up out of the seat beside Patrick. This was Patrick's one hundred percent worst nightmare. He didn't need Joe making any offhand comment about being Patrick's boyfriend for nearly two years, or the fact that Patrick had a slutty side he'd exercised well over the years. 

“Joe, this is Patrick, my boyfriend. Patrick this is Joe, I haven't seen him in God… how long?” Joe hid his surprise well and pretended to think aloud. “We were in a hardcore band together back in Illinois. You'd have hated us, Patrick.”

Joe fucking laughed at that, like it was the funniest thing that Patrick wasn't afraid to let loose his tongue on shitty bands. This was the worst nightmare in any situation but he didn't want Pete knowing his ex. 

Luckily, Joe showed enough class to not mention their history and acted as if Patrick was a nice neat stranger. Patrick smiled pleasantly at him, wishing he hadn't shoved a plug in his ass that Joe had bought him. 

It turned out that Pete wanted a _gigantic_ reminiscing session and Patrick was stuck between two boyfriends, listening to them talk about their terrible hardcore band and how _awesome_ it was playing together. 

Patrick smiled fake, shifting his weight so he wasn't pressing so much against the plug. Thoughts of a threesome on his sex swing immediately flooded and left his brain as the conversation washed over him. Such naughty thoughts were not welcome. 

The only relief was when Pete excused himself for a bathroom break and immediately Joe raised an eyebrow at Patrick. 

“So you and Pete Wentz, huh? It's good, I'm glad you're moving on.” Oh _god_. Patrick was not listening to this bullshit. “Why didn't you want him to know about us?”

“Because he doesn't know about me and he doesn't know about you.” Patrick squeezed his eyes shut, knowing the words were pretty stupid. 

“Dude, that made no sense,” Joe said, but he'd been with Patrick for a long enough time to work him out. “He doesn't know that you've been quite uh… sexual in the past?”

“He thinks I'm a virgin,” Patrick said it as plain as possible with the hope that Joe would let it go. 

“If he thinks you're a virgin, then why are you wearing a butt plug?“ Joe asked. Patrick gave him a look, surely it wasn't _that_ obvious. “Dude, I know you. Pink cheeks, twitchy, sweating. You look ready to come and you hate parties so it's not the atmosphere.”

“He thinks I'm a virgin so we haven't had sex yet, but I wanted to spice things up. It's not working because you're here and I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Pete's a good guy, I think. He wouldn't care that you've been with a lot of people. He was fucking everything in sight when we toured together.” Patrick felt a sharp sting of jealousy thinking about all the people that have had Pete in their beds. 

“Yeah, but then it might be like with you where it's all about the sex. So maybe if he thinks I'm a virgin then he might think of me as someone outside of what I can do in the bedroom because no one else thinks that way!”

“A lot of people think you're a good producer,” Joe said, but his face had changed and Patrick didn't care to focus on why. He'd done that emotional purging thing again. “And I didn't mean to make your feel like that. Shit, Patrick. I better pay for some therapy.”

“No.” Patrick shook his head, looking up when he saw Pete heading back over. “If you want to do anything, just don't tell him we were together. Don't tell him that I've had sex before. Let him believe I'm a great person outside of my producing”

“No one would ever doubt that,” Joe said, patting Patrick's shoulder. Patrick remembers cuddling up with him on Sunday nights, remembers all the days they spend together. Patrick wondered when it all got lost for Joe, there had been affection and kindness on both sides. “Good luck with this, Patrick. I think you’ll need it.”

Patrick faked enthusiasm the rest of the night. Pete was so excited about seeing Joe again and Patrick realized he was going to have to really trust Joe when they exchanged numbers. He felt like a liar and a cheat by the time they were ready to leave and he was feeling sore rather than thrilled by the sensation of the plug. He was glad for the escape to the shower as they went back to his house. He removed the plug and aggressively shampooed until he was ready to face Pete again.

Patrick’s bed wasn’t as fun as Pete’s, that went on for the stretch of the bedroom and he didn’t have a distraction of a waterbed, but he did have Pete who liked Patrick cuddling him to death, and didn’t expect any kind of sexual favors in return.

“Just so you know,” Pete started to say, when Patrick was almost ready for sleep. “I’m like falling in love with you. It’s cool if I say it, right?”

“You can say it but I don’t believe you,” Patrick said because he wanted to be honest. He didn't feel like an honest man anymore. “It’s a nice idea though.”

“Why wouldn't you believe that?” Pete said, and Patrick had forgotten that he wasn't much of a sleeper. He wanted to roll over and not speak and just pretend that his ass wasn't sore from wearing a plug all night and his ex boyfriend fucking seeing it all. Embarrassing, really. Still, he wriggled closer to Pete as he fought past the sleepiness and tried to form some words that made sense. 

“I just don’t see how you could, but I like the thought. If it’s any consolation I feel the same. I’m falling for you too.” Patrick _knew_ it. He knew it because of how high the stakes were in his lie and how he really didn’t want Pete finding out and hating him. He saw a future in a way he hadn’t ever with Joe. 

“You’re weird,” Pete said affectionately. Patrick had his eyes shut, but Pete was stroking fingers through his bangs and it was utterly soothing. “But I’ll show you.”

Patrick figured a day or so later that they'd probably have sex soon enough. Once they do it then Patrick could just claim he was overly prepared and thus ordered a sex swing and display cabinet of sex toys for the days in which he would be sexually free. 

It didn't sound great in his head, but he just shrugged it off. They'd said their _I love yous_ and there was nowhere to hide now. Not after he'd brought Joe in on his lie. 

“I've got a con booked for next weekend, wanna come with?” Pete asked when they were out on what must have been their twentieth date. Patrick forgoed any secret plugs or toys; it didn't really work out well for him last time. He was just anticipating his deflowering with excitement. 

“What does that even mean?” Patrick asked, listening curiously as Pete explained that he basically held a Q&A and signing for fans. 

“Some of them dress up as zombies and it is totally badass Patrick. You'll totally love it.” Patrick didn't think he would _totally love it_ if it wasn't for the fact it'd be a whole day with Pete and anything with him seemed awesome. “Then I thought maybe we could spend a few days out of town together.”

Maybe Patrick could lose it to Pete then. Get it out the way. He so badly wanted to be at one with Pete, wanted to have him inside his body and feel them just move together. It would be perfect, Patrick was sure of it. He wanted some positivity in his life. 

 

Patrick thought it would be fun to dress up for the con, or at least get some face paint slapped on. He went to Gabe for it, as he was an artist and had some talent in the area.

“Make me a zombie, but not scary. Like someone he's attracted to but still noticeably undead, right?” Patrick told Gabe, sitting in his friend's kitchen with paint spread out all over counter-tops. Patrick had pretty sensitive skin so he hoped it wouldn't bring him out in a rash.

“A pretty zombie, huh?” Gabe laughed, which wasn't what Patrick had said at all, but it wasn't something he was going to question. “He really likes you by the way. I'm not gonna lie and say I've seen him a ton over the past few years so I don't know for sure, but I'd say he's a fuckton happier now than he has been for a long time.”

The words made Patrick's chest fill with both excitement and fear. He felt the same about Pete, like his world had come to life or that he had a reason to be in someone's life other than to make their songs good or their dick happy. He just didn't want it to end.

“He likes listening to me ramble for hours about music. No one else ever has,” Patrick told Gabe instead, scrunching his nose up at the tickling of the brush against against his cheek. “I think he's actually listening too instead of pretending.”

“You know Pattycakes, if it don't work out between you and Pete you've gotta start sleeping with people that actually care instead of just the people that want you for sex,” Gabe warned him, but Patrick didn't like the wash of emotions that comment gave him so he ignored it. He sat and waited, trying not to laugh at the sensation of the wet tickly brush over his skin.

When Gabe held the mirror up to Patrick's face it was a nervous feeling. In the end though, he looked pretty cool. Pale with green mottling over his cheek and darker green and blue circles encapsulating his eyes. The mouth was weird; teeth extending to the left side of his lips, but it was zombieish and it was awesome. Gabe did a better job with this than he did with his melting cock artwork, in Patrick's opinion at least.

Patrick wanted to surprise Pete with his new look, so he'd told Pete he'd drive up to the hotel they were staying at separately. By driving up he got to listen to the record of a band he was having studio time with next week. They were surprisingly good considering he hadn't heard of them. Pete would like them for sure, Patrick couldn't wait to tell him about them.

Patrick wasn't very good at surprises so he didn't bother with some elaborate joke to stump Pete with and just simply knocked on the door of his hotel room. When Pete opened it he almost had a coughing fit, but calmed himself by thumping himself on the chest a few times.

“Okay, you're dressed like a zombie,” Pete said as he calmed down. “Why are you dressed like a zombie?”

“I'm not _dressed_ like a zombie, I just had Gabe do my make up,” Patrick corrected Pete. He wondered what he must look like as he spoke because Pete was giving him a killer look. “You said that's what people do at cons.”

“I did say that, I just didn't expect it from you, but it's cool. I like it, you're so goddamn weird that it fits my weird.” Pete went to kiss Patrick, but neither of them wanted smeared zombie paint ruining the look so Patrick held out his hand instead. Pete laughed, but kissed it anyway, showing Patrick into the room.

Patrick had almost forgotten that Pete would actually be working that day. He had an itinerary; a short reading from the upcoming book, a reveal of the trailer of the next movie, then a Q&A. Afterward, he'd have to sign for a half hour.

“I'm such an anxious person in these situations. I just remember what I'm getting paid and it helps,” Pete said to Patrick. They were in the back of the car, being driven to the con. Patrick wouldn't pretend that he hadn't ever been driven around in cars, he'd been to five Grammy awards, but never had he actually felt like a celebrity. If cons had red carpets, Pete would definitely walk it. Plus he looked hot; weird jacket, t-shirt, bad sneakers. Patrick wasn't sure why he found it hot, he just did.

“Reading an excerpt sounds like the worst part,” Patrick told Pete, holding his hand in the car. He could feel Pete’s nervous pulse as his thumb stroked his wrist. “I'm a bad reader. Like, really slow and stumbly. It's weird, in my head it's fine but out-loud it's a nightmare. Plus I'm a shitty speller, kinda ironic because I'm a fair songwriter.”

“Seriously?” Pete asked and Patrick just shrugged his shoulders.

“Uh-huh. I'm not illiterate, just slow. When I'm writing lyrics for a band I usually have them dictate to stop any embarrassment. I think all of my intelligence is based solely around music and not much else.”

“Well shit, maybe you should be all about the audio book life.”

“I can't listen to books when I could be listening to music,” Patrick said, and maybe it was because of the make up, but Pete gave him the strangest most thoughtful frown. 

By the time they were behind the scenes of the convention, Patrick was certain he'd never been around so many zombies before. He'd once got caught in traffic during a zombie run, but at least they'd been contained then. At this point he was just in a sort of menagerie of weirdly dressed people. 

“Oh my God, this is so weird,” Patrick said, sticking close to Pete. Most of the makeup was a lot more gory than his own. 

“Embrace it, kid. You're one of them now.” Pete pulled Patrick close and it was nice. 

It turned out to be pretty boring for the most part. Patrick got to sit in the audience of the reading and listen to Pete talk. He was nervous, but only to Patrick who had picked up on the small quirks over the weeks they'd been dating, plus he was a damn better reader than Patrick had ever been. 

Patrick wandered off in search of food while Pete had his meet and greet. He had an awkward moment trying to eat a hot dog without smearing his makeup, but everyone around him seemed to be having the same issue. 

“I have never seen a zombie in glasses before,” Pete said when Patrick found him at the end of his signing session. Patrick's eyes had started to irritate so he'd shoved his glasses on a half hour back. “You're a cute zombie.”

“Thanks. I think I've sweated half my makeup off by this point though,” Patrick told Pete. “Sweaty cute zombie.”

“You still look undead. Now, are you ready to have some real fun?”

Real fun had nothing to do with the con. Whether Pete was meant to stay longer or not, Patrick had no idea, but there was a retro roller rink a block away and surprisingly a few zombies had heard about it. 

“I can't skate,” Patrick told Pete as they swapped shoes for skates. He wiped the back of his hand against his forehead without thinking and smeared green gunk over his hand. “Oh shit. I look a wreck.”

“Yeah, but I just spoke at a zombie convention so who's the real loser?” Pete asked and even though Patrick laughed, it seemed awful to hate his own career so much. 

So neither of them were great at skating around the rink, but there was music that Patrick always remembered from his childhood and they technically had a low center of gravity so it didn’t seem like a huge thing every time they did fall on their ass.

Patrick had never done anything like this. With Joe it was always a gig and then sex; a movie with a hand-job after. It always felt like the date was just the precursor to the sex. With Pete, Patrick didn't ever want the date to end, even when his knees and elbows ached from how often he’d fallen on them.

“We should be wearing, like, hot pants and leg warmers but smeared face paint is good too,” Pete told Patrick. He'd plucked up the courage to skate backwards, though he held his hands out like there was an invisible bar either side holding him up. Patrick just spread his legs and moved with slow and small movements. He was terrible, but he didn’t care. 

“Hot Pants are a no no,” Patrick said back, half falling into the side of the rink. It stung for a little longer than expected and he held his hands up in defeat. “Yeah okay, I’ve rollerskated for victory, now I need a sit down.”

Patrick’s face was starting to itch by the time they sat down for a drink. Drying sweat mixed with the hours old face paint was a bad combination and he could feel red bumps starting to pop up in retaliation across his forehead. He just sucked Coke through the straw, staring at Pete, who was putting on a good show of not caring about the mess Patrick was in.

They were staying in the hotel for the evening and as Patrick showered, watching the grimy green remains of his zombie makeup flood down past his feet, something felt different. Pete's looks had been electric all day; staring at Patrick past the costume on his face. It felt right to lose his virginity after a day he’d had, full of anxiety, sweat and laughter. There were nerves in the pit of his stomach though; catching into his bloodstream, picking up his pulse point. This could be the end of all his lies with one careful fuck, he’d made it this far. 

Patrick's skin had calmed down with a good gentle clean, and he felt like himself again, only a little more shy as he sat on the bed beside Pete. He hadn’t ever been shy with Pete and he hated that it was trying to rear its ugly head. 

“You nervous?” Pete asked and Patrick shrugged. He shouldn’t be, he’d fucked so many people in the past, what was another? “We could just, like, watch shitty TV and cuddle?”

“No, we’ve done enough of that and I’m ready, I swear.” Patrick slid his hand around Pete’s. “It’s a good day to lose it to you.”

“Yeah,” Pete laughed, face creasing up. He rubbed his free hand over his features, before scratching as his scalp. He gave Patrick a look from the corner of his eye and it sent something stirring inside. “I need to shower. Just relax, alright? We’ll take our time.”

Patrick laid on his back listening to the shower running. His left hand was splayed over his chest, trying to calm himself. He was ready for this, to sleep with Pete and take everything further. He thought he’d been ready for weeks now, but not really, not until now was he certain. He tried to push out the shitty thoughts about how he should just come clean.

Pete came out of the shower in just plain boxer briefs and damp hair. It was a good look, and it made Patrick’s stomach flip and his hips lift briefly off the bed. His usual quick wit in the bedroom hadn’t followed him to the hotel room, and he was glad for it. The nerves, though, picked up as he swallowed thickly. 

“Okay I know you’re crazy nervous, but don’t be. Or just know that I’m freaking out too, I don’t want this to be bad for you.” Pete sat on the bed beside Patrick. The smell of his body wash and shampoo went straight to Patrick’s head as they kissed. “It might hurt, but only a little.”

“Okay,” Patrick whispered. It didn’t hurt when he lost his virginity for real, but he’d been drunk at the point so it probably helped. It hadn’t ever really hurt unless he'd wanted it to, but he was tense. There’d be a level of tightness he wouldn’t have to fake. “Do you have condoms?”

“Yep and lube.” Pete suddenly laughed like he was embarrassed at his planning. “I sorta had a feeling it might happen here.”

“S’good to be prepared,” Patrick said which was dumb, but Pete didn’t laugh at him or anything, just started kissing him again. Patrick laid back, placid as anything, just letting everything take over him. 

As they started to get a little heavier with the kissing, after the brief stop for Pete to grab his lube and condoms, Patrick’s panic didn’t calm. All he had to do was open his legs and pretend it hurt a little for a bit. He focused on his boner that Pete was stroking over his pajama pants and the feel of Pete hard against his thigh. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Pete said, lips fumbling against Patrick’s throat. “Waited so long for this.” Patrick nodded his head, laughing at the feel of Pete’s gentle fingers curling into the waistband of his pajamas, almost circling Patrick’s dick until Patrick just...did his usual.

“Okay I lied I’m not a virgin.” Patrick sat up and inched away from Pete before he felt Pete do the same. “Like I’m basically the opposite.”

“Wait, what?” Pete's dick looks so impressive bulging against the fabric of his boxers and Patrick stared at it mournfully rather than look in Pete’s eyes. “That doesn't make sense.”

“I know, but I wanted to be one with you.” Patrick managed to sneak a look at Pete, but he was looking horrified. “Plus it’s not even a real thing, I read about it. It’s like a social construct or something.”

“What the fuck. This is not fucking happening.” Pete didn’t look amused, not that Patrick thought he would be, but he didn't know what to say or do. “So this was just a joke?”

“Hardly. I just liked being with someone that wanted to spend time with me instead of bending me over the nearest flat surface.”

“So that happens a lot?” Patrick took it for a genuine question and so answered in the same tone.

“Yeah. All people want to do is fuck me and it’s not great.”

“Oh for fuck…” Pete had his head in his hands, his skin a dark red. He looked more than pissed, humiliated too. Patrick hadn’t figured that into his confession. “What a shitty life you lead, Patrick, where everyone wants to fuck you and yet you have me following you around like a pathetic piece of shit, trying to make sure nothing I say makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like _that_.” Patrick said, but Pete’s eyes, when they turned on him, were furious. He was past pissed. Patrick was upset too, but only because he always seemed to fuck everything up. _Constantly_.

“Okay. Well jokes on me, you should just go and find someone else to fool. I’m fucking done.” Pete's words were enough to have Patrick scrambling. He left Pete sitting on the hotel bed in just his underwear. He was in nightwear, but he’d grabbed his car keys and phone and there wasn’t anything else he needed. 

Patrick felt nauseous the whole ride home. At first he was numb to anything else, but then he realized that this meant his relationship with Pete was seriously over. There wasn’t any talking around the fact that he’d lied to him for three months, that he’d blurted it all out in one go and now he’d be alone for good with nothing else.

Patrick was left with the overwhelming feeling that he'd fucked things up big time. At least with Joe he'd realized that for the most part the relationship failure had been on Joe's part. He'd not communicated how he was feeling to Patrick and instead of doing so, he occupied himself with someone else. It was shitty, but there wasn't much blame that Patrick could put on himself. This time it was all him.

He didn't even have the frustration and anger this time around. There was just sadness. He was sad that he'd fucked things up rather than be honest from the start. With Pete everything had fallen into place, they had fun dates, there was no awkwardness because they both had money. Patrick hadn't laughed with anyone as much as he'd laughed with Pete.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Vicky asked down the phone the day after he came back. He hadn't told her what had happened, which meant Pete must've told Gabe, who confessed to Vicky. Patrick was sitting on his couch, not wanting to move or do anything.

“No.” Patrick shifted. Part of him wanted to go to the studio, but he didn't want to see anyone and really, that would mean moving from his couch and the idea made him incredibly unhappy. “Things were going really well then I fucked it all up.”

“You told him you weren't a virgin,” she said, and then, “to be absolutely fair, I think he's a fucking idiot for not realizing.”

“That feels like too much of an excuse,” Patrick responded. “I wanna talk to him, but I know he won't want that and I wouldn't know what to say. It was so much fun dating a guy that seemed to understand me in every way. He never fucking judged me at all which is why it's so dumb that I even lied in the first place.”

“Write him a letter, then. That's what Gabe does when I'm mad at him.” Patrick could do without imagining his friends playing their weird games.

“You know I can't spell for shit.”

“Just give it time, then. If you're still bummed out in a week, maybe get in contact with him and see what you can do about it.”

“I can't imagine hooking up with anyone else but him now.” Patrick thought to his poor neglected sex swing. It'd been so long since he'd been able to get some real action out of it. At least he had a display cabinet of toys to use on himself, but Pete would totally have been into watching Patrick with them. “I definitely love him and everything.”

“Yup, at least you know never to lie about your virtue again,” Vicky said, but Patrick hung up. He wasn't in the mood for jokes.

 

He pulled himself back into the studio a few days later. He made this poor kid cry with lambasting his shitty vocals when they were recording. He didn't mean to, and he apologized to the boy, but they didn't really get a decent song out of it, so Patrick sent him on his way. His bad mood must've been obvious to anyone, he didn't get a single hook-up suggestion.

Then his mom flew in because he hadn't phoned her at all after breaking up with Joe and she was _still_ worried. He took her for dinner and had to assure her he wasn't still hung up on his ex, that he was totally happy being single just like he had been for most of his life. He just stared at her across the table trying really hard not to cry or say anything stupid.

“You know I was never Joe's biggest fan. Particularly after those pictures you sent me.” Patrick had almost forgotten that he'd sent her a photo of a vibrator with the comment _you better make me scream with this._ In Patrick's defense, he was terrible with technology when it wasn't linked to his studio and he'd been having a conversation with both his mother and Joe at the same time.

“I'm not in love with Joe,” Patrick promised her, trying to stop the continuation of that conversation. Luckily, his mom hadn't been too horrendous about the photo, sending him a simple _wrong person hun. Don't bring Joe on your next trip._

“I know my children, I know when they're unhappy,” she said defiantly. God, Patrick wished he was having dinner with his dad instead, who only wanted to talk politics and music from the seventies. “Tell me what's the matter, Patrick.”

“I was seeing someone, not Joe. I dunno, I like him a lot but I wanted to be someone else when I was with him and when he found out he got mad.” Patrick stared down at his half-finished plate of food.

“Why on earth would you want to be someone else?” his mom said, 100% missing the point.

“I guess I just wanted to be with him in the best way possible and I didn't think the person I was was good enough. It's dumb because he showed me all of his flaws, or some of them at least.”

“Well maybe if you spoke to him and explained yourself it would help. The real you will always be better than a lie, to him or someone else.” Patrick was glad he went out to dinner with his mom, if only because she would take his side no matter what. He hugged her goodbye after driving her to her hotel room. Knowing her, she'd pick the lock to his guest bedroom and see the sex room he'd created if he invited her back to his place. It was better like this.

 

The next time Gabe and Vicky had a party, Patrick only went to see if Pete turned up. Of course he was there and of course he was flirting with someone in the kitchen so Patrick went and sat on the porch, hating himself because he was welling up slightly.

Patrick still hadn't had sex since Joe; there'd been no real joy in the idea of rebounding after his relationship with Pete went downhill. He just... he just didn't want anyone else, and he couldn't envision sex being any good if it wasn't with someone that made him laugh like Pete did.

“It's not cool for you to make me feel like shit.” Patrick turned to the sound of Pete's voice, watching him open the sliding door and taking a seat beside Patrick. “This is where we first met.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I'm sorry about everything.”

“About lying to me for our whole relationship? You should be sorry.”

“I just said I was,” Patrick said. “I lied because it seemed like... I dunno. I just wanted to be liked for who I was not what I could do.”

“Maybe you could be liked for both?” Pete suggested, but Patrick shook his head.

“Being a virgin wasn't the only thing... I was in a relationship with Joe Trohman for two years and--”

“What the fuck? Back the fuck up. Joe Trohman who I was in a band with all those years ago? Joe Trohman who I introduced you to at that party?” Pete's voice was raising but Patrick was too drained and miserable to fight.

“Yeah him. He's the only boyfriend I ever had and he left me for someone else after two years. I didn't see it coming, but he said our relationship was just sex to him, like it's just sex to everyone else I've ever hooked up with and when I met you I just... I didn't want to do that again, to fall in love with someone and then realize they were just like everyone else. I swear people think I'm like this robot that just produces and that I don't have feelings, but I really do. I have a lot of fucking feelings.”

“You could have just said you wanted to take things slow and that would've been cool with me,” Pete started but Patrick shook his head. 

“I said the same with Joe, but we ended up having sex the night of our first date. Thing is, I didn't even want to have sex with you in the beginning because I was...I'm not sure, burned out from it. I just liked dating you and that you liked talking to me and kissing without the expectation of getting your dick sucked after.”

“Of all the things I've ever been lied to about, your virginity is definitely the weirdest. Your explanation sounds sincere, I get that, but like. I dunno if it's enough, I think I need time. You took it so far, dude. You know that right?”

“I wanted to be one. I wanted to be renewed. I know it's dumb.” Patrick felt beyond miserable. He was such an idiot, he could hardly believe it. Well, he could, because his life seemed to consist of idiotic moments like those, but still. “I didn't even mean to tell you. It was something I ended up blurting out when we made out in the car that time because I knew we'd have sex and I knew it would be awesome, and I really didn't want you to forget that you liked my personality, you know?”

“You have a lot of self esteem issues, you know that?” self esteem had always been a pretty iffy issue for Patrick. It had lessened somewhat over the years, smothered by his skills in the studio, and probably by his skills in the bedroom too. But as good as he knew he was at sex, he knew he wasn't exactly a God to look at. Sort of okay, good in the right lights but prone to chubbiness unless he felt the inclination for cardio. (Which, outside of the bedroom, was a general no). 

“I hadn't linked it to self esteem, but you're probably right.” Patrick felt miserable again. From trying to explain things to Pete, it had just turned into another bout of assessing his own shitty feelings. “I have stuff I need to work on personally.”

“Yeah, it looks like it.” Pete left Patrick alone not long after that and Patrick couldn't tell if it was on good terms or not. It seemed amicable, but he still felt shitty and like he'd humiliated himself a little. He didn't see Pete for the rest of the night, but Patrick left early. He didn't want to be there anymore.

Patrick threw himself back into work once more. He wrote a ballad for a rock band and arranged lyrics for another friend's record. He ploughed fast and hard through it all, trying to ignore the mess of his heart. He burned himself out at work, but that meant less time alone at home. When he was at his house, he was asleep on the couch with the TV on low.

He had his usual dinner at Vicky and Gabe's house, but they just pretended as if he hadn't been ignoring the majority of their texts over the past few weeks. Vicky's chicken was undercooked so Patrick ate around it for fear of death as they asked him what was wrong.

“I just blew it with Pete in all the worst ways and I'm not over it yet so it's just really annoying. Painful in all the obvious ways.”

“You blew it like you blew everyone else in the world,” Gabe said, as if the comment would be at all appreciated. Patrick flipped him off, but shrugged his shoulders. There was the slightest truth in his comment, though he'd never admit it.

“We didn't argue or anything, but we just haven't kept in contact. I want to work things out with him, but I don't know how.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” Gabe told Patrick with what appeared to be sincerity. “He's as miserable as you are too, though having a shit ton more sex. He's a free spirit at the moment.”

“Don't tell me that,” Patrick stared glumly into his completely inedible plate of chicken. Imagining Pete having sex with other people was even worse than his undercooked food.

In the end Patrick wrote an email to Pete, trying to explain all of his feelings and thoughts. He apologized again and didn't try to excuse himself. He told Pete that he hadn't ever had as much fun as he did on their dates and that he liked having someone who would listen to him talk about music even if it bored him to death. He told Pete he loved him, then deleted the line. He put it back in and then sent it without even bothering to check the spelling. He probably should've recorded it and sent it via voicemail instead, but he was also prone to rambling when nervous so it felt like a lose lose situation.

“Okay, you're officially a terrible speller,” Pete said down the phone two hours after Patrick sent the message. Patrick was in the studio, fiddling with his snare drum when he answered the call without looking at the caller ID. “Like, hilariously so. You spelled apologized with two a's and two p's. _Appalogized_.”

“I never lied about being able to spell,” Patrick said, trying not to feel too embarrassed. Mostly his chest was bumping because it was Pete's voice coming through the speakers. “It's not really something to laugh about.”

“Sorry.” Pete cut himself off, as if he hadn't meant to offend. Patrick wasn't really upset, just consistently humiliated through life. “That was a low blow. How you doing?”

“I'm in the studio,” Patrick told Pete. “Just working, making people sound good for the first time in their life. You?”

“Good. Redesigning merch for the new movie. We got a new line of zombie condoms to coincidence with the sex scene in the movie. I’m calling them zomdoms.”

“Someone has sex with a Zombie?” Patrick was horrified. 

“There are some weirdos about, Patrick. I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime this week. We could do something fun.”

“Like a date?” Patrick asked. He could do a date with Pete, they could laugh like they used to and have sex like they never got round to doing. “Don't bring the zomdoms.”

“Never said anything about sex,” Pete warned, but he sounded like he was joking. “Just promise not to lie about anything else.”

Patrick felt like he really had to make an effort for their date so he showered for like forty five minutes and glossed for twenty. He thought about wearing a plug as a joke, but then decided against it. He didn't want to freak Pete out too much. Clothes were what they always were for Patrick, tight black jeans and a button down. It's not like he ever saw Pete dress up for anything in his life. 

He was still a bundle of nerves when he met Pete. He promised himself that he wouldn't lie, that if he ended up blurting something weird out, that he'd just roll with it and try and explain himself. 

When Pete walked over to Patrick at the bar, he looked nervous too, though he did look pretty good. He always looked good, even in bad clothes. 

“Hi, my name is Pete,” Pete said, which was weird, but he was holding his hand out so Patrick shook it. “I'm a millionaire that writes bad zombie fiction and has a franchise making me even more money. I'm awkward as fuck and I've hurt a lot of people in the past but I'm trying to get past it.”

“I'm Patrick.” He got it now, laughing as he introduced himself. “I'm an opinionated producer who hates leaving the studio and who sleeps around to fill the void of loneliness. I also own a sex swing.”

He totally _didn't_ mean to say the last part, but he's glad he did because Pete came home with him that night. They were in Patrick's living room, making out when he pulled away with red lips. 

“When you say sex swing, what like... I mean, _what?_ ”

“Okay so I told Joe last year that I always wanted a sex swing and so he bought me one for my birthday. He said we needed it because the sex wasn't as good but that was bullshit. Sex doesn't get boring with someone, you just make it work.”

“You have a sex swing.” Pete clearly wasn't listening. Patrick sighed and stood up, pulling his shirt until it sat straight. 

“Come I'll show you. Joe was going to be cheap and get me one of those ones that you hang on the back of the door, but I was like fuck that, I don't wanna fall out, so we got one that's suspended from the ceiling with beams, and then like a sling so I can just lay back and be lazy if I want. Sometimes I just sit in there and do nothing. I've done that a lot since Joe left.”

“Please shut up and show me it,” Pete said. Patrick took his hand and pulled him toward the guest bedroom, unlocking it. 

The room did look quite imposing with the swing in the middle and a large display cabinet in the corner. There wasn't anything else in room, so it was fairly basic, but it's not like Patrick ever entertained anyone else. 

“I need to see you in this bad boy,” Pete said, eyes fixated on the swing. Patrick did as he was told, balancing his back in the swing, lifting his feet until they slipped into the harnesses. His ass was just hanging out, but it was supposed to be, plus he _was_ wearing pants. 

“This good?” Patrick asked, knowing it was from the look on Pete's face. There were hand restraints too, but Patrick just held onto the suspended chains for now. He wasn't really into have his hands tied up. 

“Yeah, this is good.” Pete's hands moved up to Patrick's thighs, fanning his fingers and sinking the tips down into Patrick's covered flesh. It was maybe too soon to be introducing his sex swing into the relationship… it did feel slightly awkward being dressed and suspended with his legs open. “The things that I want to do to you right now.”

“Do them. Do all of them if you like, I bet I can keep up. I bet I last longer than you think anyway.” Pete's eyes raised and Patrick shrugged. “I hope you weren't expecting me to be quiet. I'm not quiet.”

“Thank God for that. You think we can take this on a trial spin.”

“You ever fucked anyone is a sex swing?” Pete shook his head and so Patrick licked his lips. “You have all the physical control so you gotta make it good. It's fun but don't get carried away.”

“Did a gag come with this swing, I feel like I'm gonna need one with you,” Pete asked and Patrick would've chewed him out for that, but Pete chose that moment to press the palm of his hand against Patrick's crotch. He just bucked up instead, hands moving from the straps to grasp at Pete's shoulders, pulling him down so he was on top. 

“It can take a lot of weight,” Patrick told Pete, before he pulled him down for a kiss. Pete was hesitant at first, still holding himself up, but eventually he let the swing take most of his weight too, bracing his knees slightly.

Pete started to get them naked, even if Patrick had rather just make out for a little longer. At the last hurdle, he’d wanted to savor the moment some more, but he changed his mind once he saw Pete drop his pants.

“Commando, huh? Thought you might score tonight?” Patrick said, still slowly swinging back and forth. Pete had hard enough abs that Patrick wondered whether he should be sucking in a little. Usually he didn’t care; dick was dick, but he did love Pete. “Tell me you think I’m hot. Self esteem issues are kicking in.”

“Too busy trying to decide whether to come in your mouth or ass. Both seem pretty inviting.” Pete wrapped a hand around his dick, stroking it slowly as he stared at Patrick. Patrick enjoyed watching Pete firm up as he shimmied out of his shirt, back to feeling confident again. Pete hadn’t seen Patrick naked yet, but he’d felt him up plenty of times. He knew what to expect. 

“Like I’m gonna let you fucking decide.” Patrick stood up and then pulled his pants and boxers off, hobbling from one foot onto the other. Pete was still jerking off as Patrick tried to sensually fall back into the swing. It was always the most awkward part. He lifted his legs back into the straps, watching Pete’s eyes center between Patrick’s legs. “You’re not _that much_ smaller than Joe. You should line up pretty well.” Pete’s dick wasn’t huge in length, but he had girth and Patrick _loved_ girth.

Pete walked forward, giving Patrick a few pushes in the swing. They’d need condoms and lube, which Patrick had stored in his cabinet, but that would mean Pete seeing quite how much of a hobbyist Patrick was when it came to vibrators. 

“You gonna let me fuck you? I’ll make you come in all the best ways,” Pete said and he sounded so eager. Patrick’s legs were already spread, and his ass was presented up for Pete, but he still had all the control and he loved it.

“Not yet.” He smirked as Pete’s face fell. The head of Pete’s dick touched the inside of his right thigh as he held onto the swing frame. “You said you’d do something to me once, and you haven’t done it yet. Remember?” Patrick dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip to help Pete out. Immediately Pete nodded, dropping to his knees. Again, his mouth was in the perfect position. 

“Sucks that I won't be the first person to do this like I promised.” Pete’s breath hit the soft skin of Patrick’s ass, his lips laying a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh of Patrick’s inner thigh.

“It’s been a long time since I had anyone do this. Joe never would,” Patrick said, moving his hand over Pete’s head. Pete ducked away though, shaking his head.

“No, dude. You put your hands out of the way, I want you in this swing completely bound. You can boss all you like with your mouth, but let me have control of the movements.” Patrick immediately frowned at Pete’s comment. He’d always been able to touch Joe when they were together, and he’d had an iffy experience with handcuffs in the past so it wasn’t something he was super into, but he didn’t want to fight it out with Pete just yet.

“Fine, but if I say to untie me, you stop, alright. It’s a fucking safeword.” Pete’s face flickered slightly, but he nodded his head. Patrick allowed Pete to tie his hands into the straps either side of his shoulders. It felt like a weird trust exercise, but Patrick was still hard, even suspended and bound. 

“Got it.” Pete got back onto his knees and Patrick’s stomach rocked with excitement. Pete kissed the same spot he’d licked earlier before his teeth sunk down into Patrick’s thigh, leaving a sharp pain. When Patrick groaned, hands stuck in their bonds, Pete licked over the sore spot and moved over to the other side. He did the same both sides, over and over, pushing Patrick in the swing at the peak of the sharp pain before pulling him back. Every so often he moved his head, to suck at Patrick’s dick. There wasn’t much finesse to his cocksucking skills, so he obviously hadn’t honed it like Patrick, but who didn't love sloppy head every so often? Patrick couldn't name one guy.

Then Pete’s tongue went a different route. He dragged it down Patrick’s cleft, not even bothering to tease as he pushed his tongue inside. Almost immediately he pushed Patrick away from his mouth and Patrick moaned in the swing. 

“Okay...you’re good at this,” Patrick said when he had the ability to use his words. Pete was a fucking expert at rimming, keeping Patrick open with his thumbs - nibbling, sucking, even biting down occasionally, before pushing Patrick away at just the best moment. He was taking Patrick right to the edge; with his toes curling and sweat running down his back, between his nipples and down the sides of his jaw.

At one point, as Patrick swung back into Pete’s face, Pete was ready with spit-wet fingers, sinking two inside Patrick along with his tongue. Patrick managed to lift off the seat with the intensity, but he fell back down again once Pete's fingers slipped out. 

“You want more?” Pete asked, cocky as anything and with spit dribbling down his chin. He'd just had his mouth buried in Patrick's ass, it was so hot. Patrick couldn't even berate his arrogance. 

“I know you've got a zomdom on you but I'm not having that inside me. Go to that cabinet, open the drawer beneath the doors. Pick a brand, pick a lube and come back.”

“You're not fun,” Pete said but he slipped over to the corner. Patrick stared at his ass. It was okay. He kinda wished Pete actually listened to what he said rather than opening the doors, lighting up Patrick's display of glass butt plugs, vibrators and cock rings. 

“Okay I told you the drawers,” Patrick said, looking away in embarrassment. “Stop acting so surprised.”

“All of these are _yours?_ ” Pete asked, but Patrick looked up eventually to see him rummaging in the drawers, holding two boxes of durex and an unopened pump of lube. 

“I don't have much of a life between the studio and sex,” Patrick shrugged. “I like to indulge myself. FYI, I wore one of those plugs at that party we went to at your friend's house. Bad idea when I was playing at virginity.”

“Yeah okay, the embarrassment still stings, dickhead.” Pete came back over, condom foil between his teeth. He dumped the lube on Patrick's lap and jerked himself back to full hardness before ripping open the rubber and spreading it over his cock. “Keep thinking about you with a plug in your ass now. S’hot.”

“Just lube your dick, you don't need to prep me too much. I prefer it rough,” Patrick stared Pete dead on, watching him pump the lube twice and smear it over his cock. He wiped the excess between Patrick's legs, swinging him gently. 

“You are one bossy bitch,” Pete said, leaning in for a kiss. His cock slid between Patrick's cheeks as he steadied himself. “Hang on, let me. This is, like, way harder.”

“It's just getting it in that's weird, hang on, just… “ Patrick started to laugh at the absurdity. Pete tried again, this time holding his dick steadier and staying as close to Patrick as possible. Patrick took a deep breath as he felt the head of Pete's cock against him. He hadn't been fucked in months, but he hadn't forgotten the feeling. It was his favorite moment; his breath hitching, his body slowly allowing Pete to slide inside. 

He _was_ tight, from lack of practice recently, and nerves, because he was finally at this stage with Pete. He was in love with Pete in all the ways he hadn't been with Joe and even though Patrick had lied through the majority of their relationship, it just felt right. 

He still wished he could touch Pete, that his hands weren’t bound. But he was willing to save that for next time. Maybe he’d tie Pete up and see how much he liked it. Pete got into a rhythm of it, using the swing to balance his thrusting. Patrick looked down, wishing he could do something, but also glad he couldn’t. He liked seeing Pete’s cock breach his body, he was tight around it, and it only made thing more intense when Pete angled things just so, pulling Patrick’s suspended body down onto his cock at just the right angle. 

“Mother _fucker._ That’s good.” Patrick’s toes curled up, his voice hitching as Pete continued pitching his thrusts/swings to brush Patrick’s prostate. The frustration of not being able to move, coinciding with the fact that Pete was being so goddamn relentless, and looking so fucking hot as he did it, was making Patrick delirious. “I fucking, you fucking.”

“Yeah, we’re fucking.” Pete looked up from under his eyebrows, sweat dripping down his face. His tattoos seemed to stand out more, or Patrick’s eyesight was becoming more vivid. It didn’t matter. He fucking lost it when Pete finally wrapped a hand around his cock. He didn’t need his dick touched to get off from ass play, but it fucking helped. He cried out, louder, toes pinched tight. Pete felt harder and thicker in his ass, but that was probably just from how tight he was squeezing him.

“Holy shit…” Patrick’s eyes peeled open seconds later. He’d come hard, way harder than he had in recent months with only his hands and toys to help him. Pete was coming just as hard. Patrick couldn’t exactly feel it, but he saw it play out, felt Pete’s fingers squeezing tight over his suspended thighs. 

“I think…” Patrick started to say, as Pete pulled out and dealt with the condom. He was flushed all over, but smiling at Patrick with brightly. “I think it was worth the wait.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Pete was gentle as he started to take the restraints from Patrick’s wrists. It always hurt a little after, moving his legs down and remembering how to walk. He didn’t really plan on leaving his bed for the next few hours anyway. Pete could order them pizza, Patrick could find them some booze. It’d work out just fine.

 

“So, I guess it all worked out fine in the end,” Vicky was saying down the phone to Patrick three days later. He wasn’t really listening, it was kind of hard when he was getting fucked on a water bed. Things were...fluid. It was like fucking on water, which was, well, what was happening.

“Uh-uh.” Patrick tried to be polite and pretend he wasn’t having sex, but Pete was so good at doggy style; he had great balance. Patrick didn’t, but it was fine. Pete could only see Patrick’s ass anyway, not any ugly grimacing. “Vicky, this is uh. You‘ve had better timing.”

“Gabe say Pete says he’s giving you creative control for the music for the next movie.”

“Only the soundtrack, not the score,” Patrick said. He almost choked because Pete yanked him back so hard they fell with the weird waves of the bed. Patrick impaled himself on Pete’s dick and found himself in reverse cowgirl position. Patrick shifted and Pete squeaked.

“Remember that time you had sex with Butch Walker and he flew you to New York to meet all those execs?” Patrick heard Pete mutter Butch Walker beneath his breath like he knew exactly what it meant. “This is just like that.”

“Vicky shut up, you have a fetish for Gabe in leather chaps.” Patrick hung up and turned to look over his shoulder. Pete looked vaguely sea sick until Patrick started to bounce. “That was a coincidence. I still think I deserve the score.”

“You know, in a way this kinda makes me your boss. I might make you work for your reward,” Pete said. Patrick hoped he wasn’t into _weird_ roleplays. He had an eclectic wardrobe and wouldn't put it past the uniforms in the closet being a kinky thing. Then he remembered that he had a sex swing and a light up display cabinet for overpriced butt plugs, maybe he should cut Pete some slack. 

Patrick clenched hard around Pete, still looking over his shoulder. Pete let out a pathetic squeak, hands sliding to Patrick’s waist, grappling for his dick. 

“You know there is one roleplay I’ve always wanted to do,” Patrick said softly, watching Pete’s hand slide up and down his dick. His neck was starting to crane from looking over his shoulder, but it made his ass look pretty good so he didn’t complain. “You wanna fuck a virgin, Pete? I’ve had a lot of practice in the role.”

Patrick was expecting Pete to mouth off mid thrust, but in the end he just threw his head back and started laughing. Patrick hadn’t been good at faking it last time, it was probably best to just retire that role for the rest of his life. 

Pete seemed to like Patrick though, even though hook ups had got him jobs and money, even though he spent too much time working. They didn't fuck as much as Patrick and Joe did either. The best nights were the ones where Patrick dragged his ass from the studio and fell asleep in Pete’s gigantic bed next to the guy that forgave his stupid little lie in the first place.


End file.
